Obliteration nation
by ImortalFalcon
Summary: A 19 year-old kid journeys to New York with great ambitions. One of which has to do with the nuke in the back seat. The others, he has to cross all of zombieland to find out. Will he be able to make it to one of the most zombie infested areas on earth?
1. Welcome to Zombieland

_To say I came from a humble background, would be absolutely correct. I was a regular kid, growing up with a regular family, living a regular life. Normal two story house, nice green yard, nice dog, hell, nice everything. I kinda' hated it after awhile, but, it was alright. Now, how can I explain it. . . What. The. Fuck. That's exactly the reaction one would get when they step into this cluster fuck of a world. That once regular life is gone, no more two story house, or nice dog, not even a green yard within a god damn five zillion miles. The survivors call it Zombieland. Perhaps, coincidentally enough, it's because there's five more zillion zombies than there are miles. My name, well, my name's Brooklyn now. You wanna know why? Cause my destination is Brooklyn. Before we get started your probably asking yourself 'why would a nineteen year-old male want to go to one of the most populated cities in the world? Doesn't High population equal more zombies?' It's a rather simple explanation really. You see, I have this bomb here, nuclear to be exact. And what I'm going to do with this bomb is detonate it in the heart of New York. Killing every flesh-whore on that god forsaken island. Now why, you ask, I would want to do such a thing? That's a little more complex. I'm not telling you on our first date, oh no, I'm no cheap date. Does it look like I have blonde hair and a candy pink cell phone? Anyway, some say I want to do it for some sadistic zombie killing fetish, other's think I'm just messed up in the dome. I'm not, for the record. You get the point regardless. But that's far from my to-do list at the moment. Right now, I'm in California. Yup, almost depressing, huh? All the way across what used to be the United States of America. I know what your thinking 'Oh Brooklyn, your such a slacker.' again, your wrong. I spent most of my time looking for this nuke. I couldn't travel within that allotted amount of time, the two activities come at a crossroads. So this is where my journey begins. Good ol' Victorville Californ-I-ay Where they race uh. . . Robots. Well they used to, until a zombie apocalypse sort of happened and the robots were now controlled by thick bifocal-ed, human snack-pack craving, nerdy-ass bastards._

It was ten o' clock at night, the perfectly creepy time to be out and about. A deadening silence fell upon the surrounding area. A silence so silent it could only be caused by the undead, which was exactly what was going on. Brooklyn dug through a pile of canned food. Looking for tonight's non-zombie dinner. He was inside a convenient store, a rather large one considering the average convenient store size. The shelves were intact but some of the products were knocked over. In Brooklyn's isle the shelves were almost bare. Someone had obviously stormed through the nonperishable food section, looking for rations. The lights buzzed oddly as the store remained powered. The lighting then flickered dimly on the surfaces below before finally shutting off on it's scheduled timer. Brooklyn looked up briefly with his hand deep inside the pile of sustenance. Pulling out his hand he clasped on to a can of beans.

He smiled in self achievement "Bush's. Mmm I can hardly wait!" He said as he stood up, then threw the can into the wall next to him in anger. It slapped against the wall, flattening one side, then hit the tiled floor.

"Next time I find you again, I swear I will find another bomb and level your factory! You hear me Bush's can?!" After his voice echoed a shuffle sounded over the off-white metal shelves. It wasn't him, and it sure wasn't the can. Brooklyn turned his head in alert, his finger still pointed at the inanimate object. A defining scream suddenly sheered from behind him, the noise loud and frightening. It was a female zombie with tattered pink clothing.

"Hoh, shit." He sighed as he bolted forward then to the right. The zombie gave chase, huffing and wheezing behind. Brooklyn looked back as he continued to run and saw the rotting woman after him. Setting his head back to it's default position he saw another zombie, this time a male in flannel. Cocking his fist back he slugged the thing in the side of the face mid-sprint. It let out a snort as it fell backwards to the ground.

Stopping next to the zombie he looked down, taunting "Huh, you like that? You like that Paul Bunyan?!" He shrugged his arms to the side and slammed a kick into the side of the zombie. It gurgled as the impact landed in it's ribs. Jumping up and down the kid kept his fast feet ready. Brooklyn brought his gaze up to see the first zombie now within feet of him. His eyes opened wide as he sped off again. Shooting out of the front door he strode under the gas pavilion and out to the parking lot. A large black military grade flatbed truck loomed on the horizon. That was his destination. The zombie screeched as it continued to run after it's potential meal. Setting up for a jump, Brooklyn skipped for a few steps then sprung onto the bed of the vehicle. He stepped a few paces on the flat surface, spinning a large metal fixture toward the reanimated female. Brooklyn pulled out a Zippo lighter from his leather jackets pocket and lit a fuse. It sparkled in the night before disappearing. A thunderous boom echoed across the landscape as a large ball hurled into the zombie, engulfed by a plum of flashing white smoke. The undead flew backward with the ball, yelling as it went with break-neck speed. Finally the two almost lifeless objects hit a gas pump. Fire burst from the rupture before it completely exploded. A mushroom cloud of fire swirled in itself as it rose to the sky. All four linking gas pumps detonated, pounding Brooklyn's chest with concussive waves. Then an almost laser like stream of fire jetted from the ground.

_Oh, did I mention I have a cannon? No? Well, that's why I have one._

Brooklyn stared in amazement. "C-c-c-combo breaker!" He shouted as he pumped his fist. "This just might be zombie kill of the week!" He kicked his feet into the air then did a little jig. Dancing in the heat of the explosion, celebrating such an epic event. More moans and grunts sounded from the darkness around the fires light. Loads of zombies were on their way to investigate the disturbance.

"Uh-oh. Looks like I alerted the horde." Brooklyn grimaced as he looked around the perimeter of the gas station. Then he stepped past the artillery piece and vaulted over a tarp covered box. Slipping into the back window of the cab he started the engine, the smoke stacks bellowing black smog. Then the vehicle began rolling away. Three zombies past by the outside of the vehicle as Brooklyn gained speed. Several seconds of driving down the street, the fire could still be seen in the rearview mirror.

_Now I can't say I completely hate Z-land. It's not the most desirable place to be, but, it can turn your postpartum depression into postpartum aggression, if that makes any sense. Anyway it's a plus. Also; driving as fast as you want, that's a bonus._

---------------------------

The next day the sky was dry of clouds to entertain the mind. The blue came in sharp contrast of the light brown that was the horizon. Brooklyn had parked out in the desert, wanting to sleep in a zombie free area. Nothing was right to Brooklyn about sleeping where zombies were, nothing at all. The fact that something can surprise you and kill you the way zombies do while you're unaware, no way. The kid let down the steel plates covering the windows. A torrent of light caused him to squint as he looked out. The flat sand surrounding the road drained energy just by witnessing it. The vehicle he slept in stood defiant in the monotony of brown coloring. He had customized the truck to be an ideal zombie outbreak vehicle. The window plates were completely inoperable from the outside. They were placed inside the window to be shut and opened from the inside. The truck was painted all black with two designs on the side doors and white flames coming from the grill. The cannon was fastened on a spinning table type device, able to shoot in any direction. The nuclear warhead was securely strapped to the bed in a box with black tarp over it. The only thing missing was a cowcatcher. Having seen few trains where he's been, he couldn't get his hands on one. Nor did he have the time to fashion one out of metal. Brooklyn stared out of the window, eyeing the Mojave desert. It was already heating up outside, even though the trucks clock read eleven fifteen. He laid on his side and turned his shoulder to the floor. Reaching an arm under the seat he pulled out a can of -

"Beans. . ." Brooklyn continued to stare at the can. "Well, I found more cannon ammunition." saying in a faux, happy tone of voice. He slung the metal cylinder down in the passenger seat leg area. Rummaging around some more, a plastic wrapped object felt interesting. He patted his hand on it to fell the right angle in which to grab it. Then he pulled it from under the seat, and to his amazement, it was a wrapped pack of powdered sugar doughnuts.

"Hostess, huh? This is rather fitting for breakfast. Almost too fitting. . ." He narrowed his eyes, sensing conspiracy.

_Before you start calling me mentally insane, I do talk to myself. Let's get that out of the way first. Not till after the outbreak of course . . . Well. -It helps keep you sane -helps you cope. . . Er, don't judge me!_

---------------------------

"And the Jay-Z song was on, and the Jay-Z song was on, and the Jay-Z song was on! So I put my hands up, they're playin' my song! The butterflies fly away! I'm noddin' my head like 'Yeah'! Movin' my hips like 'Yeah'!"

_No comment. . . _

---------------------------

After listening to the radio for a while, Brooklyn turned off the music as he brought his hand back to griping the steering wheel. Resting his shoulders down he looked out the windshield, keeping close eye on the road ahead. Then he checked the speedometer, it peaked at eighty miles an hour. Nothing entirely too fast, but fast for a vehicle of this size. The windows were rolled down, air roared into the cab. Sand blew in waves over the road, something cool to see, provided you've never been in a desert before. The weather was a cold, warm feeling. The kind you feel on an extremely sunny fall day. However the cool feeling only coming from the blowing air, not so much the temperature outside. It also smelled like dried earth. Thinking and revising, Brooklyn ran through his plan to get to New York one more time. His best bet of getting to the northeast was taking route 66, or what the road used to be called. He'd exit somewhere in Missouri and take a straighter road to New York. It was hair raising thinking about traveling to where he was going. Nothing was certain about the northeast, at least not to Brooklyn. Mysterious stories came from other survivors about it. Ranging from safe havens to total annihilation. Some even said volcanoes rose up from the ground and scored the surface with lava. Either way, Brooklyn was hell bent to complete his mission.


	2. Hello, Amarillo

_I was enjoying the day on the road to the fullest, yet pitiful extent. Listening to the radio; which played on a continuous loop because the people that were maintaining them were either dead or had abandoned the broadcasting station. Singing in solitude to the radio, and randomly swerving in between lanes. At least it wasn't the less happy alternative. About the only joy anyone can have now is the joy of participating in activities where you aren't the one being chased down by packs of ravenous undead, and the activities where you aren't worrying about being chased down by packs of ravenous undead._

"- Then he swept up from behind, he put a gun up to my head, he made it clear he wasn't looking for a fight. He said 'give me all you've got I want your money, not your life, if you try to make a move I won't think twice.' I told him 'you can have my cash, but first you know I've got to ask, what made you want to live this kind of life?'" Brooklyn paused for a moment, waiting for the song on the radio to progress.

"He Said, 'there ain't no rest for the wicked. Money don't grow on trees. I got bills to pay, I got mouths to feed, ain't nothing in this world for free. I know I can't slow down. I can't hold ba-' whoa whoa whoa." A strange sight interrupted his singing. Leaning forward in his seat Brooklyn stared at a structure on the side of the road. It wasn't the building itself but what was parked outside of it. It was a car, a vehicle to transport people, living people. It grew in size as his truck steamed closer. Brooklyn let on the brake, wanting to investigate the scene. Slowly the vehicle shifted to lower gears. Hand over hand the kid turned into the front of the building. The truck stopped with screeching noise and finally an audible clank of the brake. Turning the ignition off he assessed the situation, eyeing the entrance and possible exits. He let out a nervous sigh then grabbed his rifle from the passenger seat. Pulling back the hammer he prepped the M16, turning off the safety. He had found the gun back in Los Angeles, inside a National Guard APC. He favored the gun over a regular shotgun, the zombie killing weapon of choice. It had distance and stopping power, easy to reach out and touch zombies, humans too if need be. Taking another breath Brooklyn opened the door and jumped out of the cab. Shutting it with his left hand, then he brought his rifle to his shoulder. Walking steadily to the door of the tourist restaurant his sneakers made little noise. His hand slowly touched the door handle. Looking back he examined the other vehicle. It was a large black crew cab truck, the right front tire was completely blown out. Readying for entry he place his shoulder on the door, firearm pointed at the opening side of it. Pushing he tried to open it, then he pushed harder. Grunting he gently rammed his shoulder into the entrance, still it wouldn't budge. Attempting the same action three more times it still didn't show a single sign of opening. Stepping back he tried to read the door, to sense if it was blocked off or not.

"Of course. . ." He whispered, noticing the distinct 'Pull' sticker above the handle. Nodding in the irony he reached to the bar and opened the door. Brooklyn stepped in softly, in a slight crouch. The front entrance shut behind him, the light dimming slightly. A stuffy, non-air conditioned smell drifted into his nostrils. To be expected from a neglected building out in the desert, but not entirely too potent. Dinning booths stood elbow high to Brooklyn as he advanced into the eerie restaurant. Taking his eyes from the guns sights he looked to the ground, seeing a large trail of dried blood leading to the back room. Following the trail he noticed it looked to be from a body that had been dragged. He stepped in front of the doorway that led to the back, the guns barrel pointing straight. Brooklyn brought his left foot into the room. Before he could realize, a gunshot fired and blew a hole in the wall next to him.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" He yelled before diving into the serving bar in the main dining room. Another shot blew through the doorway, shredding the glass jars on the counter.

"Stop! Stop stop stop stop!" He roared, curling into a ball in cover but managing to hold one hand out toward the fire in submission. The bullets ceased to fire for a few seconds. "I'm alive! I'm not a zombie! Cease fire!" A hostile pause lengthened, as if to signal him to explain himself. It grew longer till finally it was unbearable, Brooklyn had to say something.

"Uh? Hi, how are you?"

"Throw your gun in the room." A steady female voice stated.

"How 'bout, not. If I do that I'll be defenseless. And I already saw how you handle a gun, I'm not too confident in your people skills." As he finished, another shot whizzed through the back rooms entrance.

"Do it." The unknown female asserted.

"Ok, fine. Give me a second."

"Do it right now!"

"Ok, ok. Keep your panties on lady." Brooklyn stood up, glass pebbles cascaded off his jacket, then tossed his gun across the view of the doorway. It clattered to a stop next to the opening, the stock only visible to the girl inside.

"Step inside, slowly." She instructed again.

"Alright. I'm coming in unarmed." Brooklyn answered, his voice a little shaken up. He walked forward with his hands lifted up. Now his right ankle was visible to the female in the back room. He waited for his leg to burn with pain, he knew for certain this girl was going to shoot him. Then his whole body entered the doorway and he came face to face with the woman.

_Now I don't want to be rude here, but let me say one thing. Women were rare in Zombieland, just like people all together. Once you find one you'd probably think she was incredibly beautiful. Kind of like a 'I guess I can settle for this' state of mind. But this girl, wooo, this girl. She was smokin' hot, even for regular standards. Too bad she's more interested in killing me than getting to know me at the moment._

The girl wore a slightly open black bomber jacket with large dark gray horizontal stripes, a dark long sleeve V-neck underneath, and dark jeans with black boots. Her light brown hair parted just above her right eyebrow and went to her shoulders. Her blue-green eyes fixated on the stranger that entered the room. The gun she had just fired was at her hip, pointed at Brooklyn.

"Helllo." He said in reaction to seeing the female. She brought the gun to her shoulder, taking aim.

"Whoa! Hold on just a minute."

"Drop to your knees, or I'll blow your head off." The girl spoke in anger, cocking the shotgun. Brooklyn knelt down to his knees, hands behind his head. The girl slung the gun on a strap over her shoulder. Then she stepped over to Brooklyn. She patted him down from the shoulders to his hips. Then she checked his shovel that was strapped to his back in a handmade holster. The girl stepped in front of him and motioned him to stand.

"Why are you hear?" She asked.

"I came to investigate why a car was outside this abandoned diner." Brooklyn spoke as he brought himself to his feet.

"See where curiosity got you." She said as she walked over to the counter on the left and picked up a box.

"Yeah, thank you. I realized that the instant hot lead flew within inches of my head."

The girl turned and lifted the shotgun with one hand at him "Watch your mouth."

"I'll watch it once it becomes a problem. . ." He growled to himself.

"What'd you say?" She questioned as she strode to him.

"I said your absolutely correct, I do need to watch my mouth. Would you kindly hand me a mirror." As he finished his sentence the gun's butt came into vision. A flash of black with bright neon coloring burst into sight, then his nose began to sting. Brooklyn staggered back from the blow.

"Disrespect me again and your going to become a religious man."

Brooklyn held his nose as it burned from the shotguns stock "What?"

The girl rolled her eyes "Hole-e"

He cocked his right eyebrow "And I thought I was bad."

---------------------------

Thirty minutes of almost silent waiting, Brooklyn sifted through the contents of a cardboard box. The girl did the same on the opposite side of the room. She had convinced Brooklyn to help her look for something, the exact object he was looking for, unspecified.

"What's your name?" Brooklyn broke the awkward lapse of silence.

"Amarillo." She said in a monotone.

"Texas, huh? I'm Brooklyn, if-if you cared."

"I don't"

"Good. Good. That's nice to hear." He responded to the undesirable response "Why are you headed to Amarillo?"

"_Why_ are you doing this?" She paused in her task, tilting her head.

"Merely conversational purposes only. Why?"

"Because it's ridiculous. I don't want to talk to you."

"That's rather unfortunate. Seeing that there's practically nobody in the world, I figured you'd want to get a chance to talk to someone."

"Oh god why didn't that first shot hit. . ." The girl sighed. She carried something in her hand and walked out of the room. A distinct jingling of keys in her other hand. Amarillo's boots struck the ground with a flat clack as she left.

"You know, your not going to get anywhere with a flat tire." Brooklyn commented. Nothing but the sound of a shutting door answered back. He shook his head in a 'I told you so' feeling. A few more seconds pasted before he heard an engine start up. Paying little attention to it he shut the box in front of him. Brooklyn raised his eyebrows and frowned in content and nodded his head. Sooner or later she's going to come back in here wanting him to driver her to safety. Then he recognized the engines idle purr. He patted down his pockets, trying to feel for his keys.

"Fuck me!" Brooklyn yelled as he realized his truck was being stolen. He sprinted out the storage room and into the dining area. Then he made a sharp left followed by a right to the door. Busting out of the entrance he saw his big black truck exiting the park area.

"No!" He pointed at the vehicle " No! No! No! No!" Chasing at top speed he gained on the truck. Then it started to accelerate on the road. He carried on faster after the girl. Brooklyn jumped over a pothole in the parking lot and landed on his left foot. He was now within a few yards of the back of the truck bed. Sprinting even harder he tried to get within distance to climb on the vehicle before it could reach a substantial speed. Brooklyn crept closer to the bumper till it was now within feet. His jacket fanned out behind him from the speed of his running.

"Do all women in Z-land do this!?" He roared as he gained on the truck. Reaching out he could almost grasp the metal bumper. With one final push he grabbed onto the now sacred metal bar. Putting his other hand on it he began to slide on his feet. Unintentionally asphalt skiing Brooklyn kept his grip tight. The unfamiliar sound of grainy textures grinding under his shoe reverberated through his body. His shoes started to melt as the friction grew. Climbing his hands up the bed he stretched his arms so he could lift himself up.

"Aaah!" He yelled as he strained to keep steady. The truck must have now been going over thirty miles an hour. Shrubs blared past his peripheral vision at amazing speed. Finally he managed to lift his legs off the road and horizontal with the trucks bed. Crawling further up the surface he grabbed onto the cannon's metal pivot. He flipped over and looked down at his feet. They smoked with burnt rubber, all griping had been melted off. The flat and smooth surface of his once prized shoes looked alien. There looked to be less than half an inch of rubber left. Brooklyn got to his feet and stepped to the cab of the truck.

"Time to die bitch." He growled as he took the shovel from it's sheath, seeking revenge for his felled footwear. Walking the length of the vehicle he maintained his balance in the large amounts of wind soaring against him. Brooklyn crouched out of sight of the rearview mirrors. He braced himself on the nuclear bombs box. His right arm laid on top of the box as his left held the shovel. Then he stepped to the left side of the truck, close to the drivers side window. Grabbing onto a notch in the black metal he swung out to the side of the cab and slammed the shovel into the window. His feet kicked out in the open air several feet from safety. Glass shattered and sprayed everywhere as the digging tool made its mark. Brooklyn dangled precariously over the speeding asphalt. The truck veered to the right as the driver inside reacted to the hit.

"Whooa!" Brooklyn shouted as he parted from the side of the cab, then he smacked back into it. Amarillo held her shotgun out the window and fired. The loud bangs swallowed by the roaring wind. Brooklyn put the shovel in its holster and grabbed onto the vehicles door handle. Then he placed one foot on the metal steps just under the door. Another shot fired, then Amarillo pumped the gun again. The empty cartridge hit Brooklyn's sleeve before it tumbled out into the desert wind. With his right hand he grabbed the shotgun and stripped it from Amarillo's hand.

"Agh!" Brooklyn reacted as he let go of the hot barrel and slung it onto the truck bed. Shaking off the pain he looked back up into the broken window.

"Knock knock! Who's there? Brooklyn, commin' to kick your ass!" he yelled to the girl inside the safe cab. Brooklyn then slung his right leg onto the bed of the truck and climbed onto it. The vehicle shook violently, trying to shake the kid off the back. He fell head first to the right side of the truck. Landing on his stomach Brooklyn grabbed hold of the edge of the wooden surface with both hands then stared down at the passing ground, his eyes wide open from the close call. Climbing to his feet he got on top of the tarp covered box and dove feet first into the back window. He landed right next to the girl, who had Brooklyn's own gun pointed at him. In that split second Brooklyn grabbed the barrel of the firearm, deflected it off to the side, lifted it into the air, grabbed the body of the M16, then reversed it at Amarillo.

"How does it drive?" Brooklyn smirked. The girl had a surprised look written all over her face. Her eyes unmasked with a 'final moment' gaze underneath.

"Personally I think the accelerator is a little heavy. Not that it matters much without speed limits." Brooklyn still held the gun straight at Amarillo's chest. The girl almost seemed sad, visibly thinking that her soon to be killer was toying with her.

"Why can't we act like normal fucking human beings?! I mean, what is wrong with you?!" Brooklyn quickly changed the subject, berating the situation as he put the rifle between his chair and door.

"How did you-?" Amarillo was quickly interrupted.

"No, seriously. Who taught you to shoot first before saying some indication that your not a zombie and make sure the other person isn't, you know, a zombie before you shoot! Is that what Amarillo teaches in their school system?"

"I-I don't know. . ."

"Ok. I see that your scared. Don't worry about it. I'm not going to kill you. As long as your not going to kill me. Can we agree on that? Can that be on our little social contract?"

The girl nodded a few times. Still slightly confused by Brooklyn's flurry of subjects and words.

"Good. Now can you remember the golden rule?"

Amarillo scrunched her eyebrows in confusion "Treat others the way you-"

"No." Brooklyn held his hand out "It's: Don't kill Brooklyn. Ok?"

---------------------------

After an hour of driving on the road the two kept silent most of the time. The scenery changed slightly as they passed miles of road. Brooklyn shifted in his chair, not used to being the passenger. Nor was he used to traveling with another person, let alone a female one.

"So why are you headed to Amarillo?" He questioned.

"I have family there. I want to see if they've survived." Amarillo answered.

"I see. Why are you all the way out here?"

"I was staying with a friend when all, this happened." She held her hand out at the surrounding area.

"How long have you been at your friends house?"

"Two years."

"That long for a sleep over? So you haven't seen your family for some time." Brooklyn look at the dashboard.

"No. . . What about you? Why are you headed to Brooklyn?"

"I have a cousin there. He called me during the outbreak, told me to meet him there."

_Of course I lied. I didn't want her to get freaked out. I mean honestly, how would you feel if you were driving a car with a nuclear device in the back? A little unnerving, right? Welcome to my world._

"Were you born there? You kind of sound like your from New York." Amarillo smiled slightly.

"I grew up there. Moved to Cali about five years ago."

That wasn't a lie. I was born and raised in the Bronx since age fourteen. Kinda' funny how I was coined 'Brooklyn'. Not only is it the wrong borough I was born in, it's the wrong destination I'm headed. Actually Manhattan is where I want to be.

"I see. I bet you wish you hadn't moved."

"Yeah no kiddin'."

_After that the road became the only predominant noise. Next populated area they would pass through would be Flagstaff, Arizona. There they would restock on supplies and provisions. At least that's what Brooklyn planed for himself to do. Now he would have to scavenge for two people, that's double the effort. However the thought of having someone watch his back was a well received notion. Some sort of buddy system or team always helped in survival situations. Especially when the whole world's against you, literally. For now Brooklyn wasn't alone, the first time since he ran into a group of four survivors back in California. Even then he never came face to face with them, just hung out around them for awhile. Even that company with no interaction whatsoever was enough for him. This time it's different, and this time, Brooklyn has a goal._


	3. A blown camshaft, in Flagstaff

_Everything was going smoothly during the time it took to pass into Arizona. Amarillo didn't try to kill me, zombies didn't try to kill me, swine flu didn't try to kill me. That's one factor about the open road that is good. Nothing can reach you in your blazing fast vehicle. . . That is, until your blazing fast vehicle becomes a broken down hunk of joy._

"Turn it in here." Amarillo instructed Brooklyn.

"I got this." Brooklyn stared cautiously down at the road "Ah damn it! It's loosing momentum." He informed, his hand on the shift stick. The Black mass of dead truck creaked to a halt in the middle of the street. Brooklyn turned to his driving partner, leaning back in his seat. Amarillo too rested her back against the seat. They both were in obvious disappointment. Whether it was within one another or the truck was unclear.

"Now what?" She shrugged.

"Now. . . Ha ha. Now we get out on foot and look for a new truck." Brooklyn sighed in discontent. The two nodded at each other and opened their doors. Each had their guns in hand, checking the general vicinity for undead. Both met up on Amarillo's side of the cab. The sky was a semi-bright tone with several clouds in the sky. Mountains loomed in the background, snow capped and defiant.

"What does this mean?" She pointed at the logo on the side of the door.

"That's an autobot symbol. I made the truck look like a dark Optimus Prime. G-one of course." Brooklyn spoke highly of the painted shape.

"What? Autobot?"

"You know, Transformers." He stared at the girl, no light bulbs seemed to go off "Your kidding me. . . Transformers, robots in disguise." He sang the opening song briefly. Amarillo still looked more puzzled than ever.

"Optimus Prime! Op-timus! Prime! O-P-T-I-"

"No! I don't know Optimus Prime!" She finally shouted.

"You gotta' be yankin' me. . ." Brooklyn stepped away from Amarillo in shock, letting his head fall back.

"Can we just get going now. . ."

Brooklyn paused then lifted his head up "Alright, yeah let's get out of here."

They jogged side by side across the road. No activity of any kind. News papers blew across their path. Bolded heading read of the last printed news, the outbreak. Cars were parked in and along the road, abandoned by their owners. A military APC was positioned horizontally in the street. Brooklyn stepped briskly to the back of the vehicle. Amarillo followed him and stopped outside the APC, watching the surroundings. Digging through to the inside Brooklyn found clips of ammunition for his M16. Backing out of the personnel carrier he hopped out as his companion watched him.

"Ammo, I was lookin' for some of this." Brooklyn held four clips in his hand at the girl. She merely looked off to the left and continued. New York not far behind, placing the clips in each one of his jacket pockets. They stepped down a side road into another street. It had fewer cars cluttering the asphalt. Multicolored banners hung from building to building over the roadway. A scattered group of zombies were hunched down on the road. Brooklyn ran in front of Amarillo, signaling her to stand still, and took aim at the undead. Shots blared into the air, causing Brooklyn's ears to ring sharply. The sudden clogged feeling in his ears made him yawn slightly, to relive the annoyance. One zombie rolled to the ground dead while the other next to it stood up. Two more rounds blasted forth, knocking the standing zombie to the ground. A new sound roared behind Brooklyn. It was Amarillo's shotgun discharging, killing a rushing zombie on her firing side. Brooklyn picked up speed down the street as the girl followed. His torso held steady with his gun shouldered as his legs pounded forward.

"Where are we going anyway?" Brooklyn yelled over the various snarls of the alert zombies.

"The mall to the north, just past these streets!" Amarillo replied, recalling the road signs that advertised the shopping center she saw on the way into town.

"What for?" He question before he shot another reanimated human.

"I need some new clothes!"

"Wha- I could use some new kicks. . ." Brooklyn lost himself in his thought of getting new shoes before he could ridicule Amarillo's idea. The girl behind him fired again, downing another ravenous zombie. To the front of Brooklyn a zombie came full steam at him. He pulled the trigger but nothing came out. Quickly he slung the rifle's strap around his back and pulled the shovel from it's holder. Swinging it back he turned his left shoulder to the male undead and took aim. Finally it was within range and he tore the shovel forward. The metal spade came up and it's edge sliced right through the zombies forehead. A large chunk of the undead's skull and brain flew into the air. The zombie fell to the ground on it's stomach, dead as nails.

"Woo! C'mon! Bring it!" Brooklyn yelled as he spun around from the excess power of his swing. Another zombie, this time a female screeched from his right. Leaning his left shoulder at the zombie he swung the shovel vertically. The flat side collided with the zombie's chin and the undead fell to the ground. Brooklyn gripped the shovel's handle and neck then brought it over his head. He forced the digging end down onto the back of the zombie's neck. It sailed through the zombies neck and clanked bluntly on the cement sidewalk. Looking up from the decapitation Brooklyn saw Amarillo staring at him. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

"What?" He said, still looking up at her.

"You really get into this." Amarillo commented.

"Yea? Well, bitch owed me money." He kidded, looking down at the zombie. Then Brooklyn slung the excess blood from his weapon's tip. The unusually dark plasma splattered in a thick vertical line.

"Let's move." The girl ordered, sliding shells into the bottom of her shotgun. Brooklyn holstered his shovel and ran after Amarillo, looking back for any more zombies.

---------------------------

_I was never one for hanging out at the mall scene. Too many people, too much noise, and too many escaladers. I never saw the use in being in a place to shop with no money. But now, seeing that there's no people, no form of currency, and the escaladers don't work, it's alright._

"Hey, watch this." Amarillo asked for Brooklyn's attention. She ran forward and jumped into a sunglasses booth. Her shoulder contacted the upper section of the revolving object. The octagon shaped spindle swirled as it fell to the ground, sun glasses cracked and shattered on the ground.

"Yea." Brooklyn smirked before running forward. He dropped into a baseball slide and swished under a bench, then stopped right in front of another sun glasses holder. He lifted his right foot and barely tapped the object with the top of his shoe, it fell over straight and smacked to the ground.

Amarillo giggled with her hand over her mouth "Funny."

"You like that? I came up with it on the fly." Brooklyn smiled as he stood up.

"I hate these sun glass holders."

"They do get a little redundant after awhile."

Amarillo stepped next to a locked door of a girls clothes store. She kicked in the glass doors and stepped inside. Brooklyn jogged behind the girl and eyed the shelves of the store. They were neatly stacked with teenage girl clothes, nothing he particularly cared for. Amarillo stopped next to a rack of shirts, shifting through the contents. She pulled out a gray long sleeved shirt, much like the one she already had on, a white blouse, and a green striped short sleeved shirt.

"You want something?" Amarillo joked.

"Pfft, nah. But I'm seriously eyeing that footlocker over there." Brooklyn answered, nudging his head behind him.

"Ok, we can go there after this."

The two nodded at the plan and she walked back into the dressing room. Brooklyn took his eyes off the girl as he looked to the shops entrance. Some lights were brunt out in the mall, causing some areas to be dim, but it was mostly well lit. No zombie activity in the mall, not yet anyway. Brooklyn kept the thought of the undead in his head. It was only a matter of time before they heard the all too familiar sound of ragging skin psychos. Brooklyn brought his attention to the shelf next to him, looking at the contents. He picked up a white skullcap and examined it.

"This is what's in style?" He said to himself. Fitting the cap over his hands he looked at it further. Finally he put it on his head, his hands still close to the ridiculous head gear. Laughter sounded from his left. Brooklyn looked over to see Amarillo with her eyes shut, laughing at his newly acquired hat. He quickly removed the skullcap from his head and hid the white cloth behind him.

"Oh my god, you actually put that on!" She continued to laugh. Brooklyn closed his eyes and nodded slightly.

"Alright, let's go to the shoe store." Brooklyn changed the subject.

"I haven't tried all these on yet."

"They fit, let's go." After he said that Amarillo tilted her head and frowned. "What? Just grab an extra pair. Here." Brooklyn grabbed a random piece of clothing and lifted it up at her. Her face twisted in confusion as Brooklyn dangled the clothing rapidly.

He turned his head to look at the fabric in his hand "Oh."

"Yeah. . ." Amarillo said in unwillingness. It was a black piece of undergarment, an almost see through nightgown top.

"This is in a teen store!?" Brooklyn blared out as he slung the gown away from him.

"I guess. Let's go get those shoes." Amarillo walked toward Brooklyn then past him. He followed behind, his head turned at the very adult piece of nightwear. They stepped into the long corridor of the bottom floor and toward the footlocker. Brooklyn stared at the second floor of the mall, more specifically the railing. He gently collided into the back of Amarillo.

"Hey." He spoke.

"Look." Amarillo pointed into the well lit footlocker. There was a hunched over zombie, wearing the trademark white and black stripped shirt.

"Hold this." Brooklyn handed Amarillo his rifle. He strode to the side of the entrance while taking the shovel from his back. He spun the tool in his hand a few times before he positioned himself on the wall next to the door. Brooklyn rocked back and forth with his knees, getting ready for what he was about to do. He cracked his neck and tossed his shoulders forward, then pressed his back against the wall.

"Hey, pretty boy, my friend over here likes you." Brooklyn said to the zombie in a loud voice. It whipped it's head around and roared, seeing the girl in his sights. The zombie stood up and dropped the forearm it was feeding on. Then it bolted forward. He growled as he barreled for the girl. Then Brooklyn lifted up the shovel, head high to the zombie, and turned his head away. A loud metal ping sounded as the zombies head ran full force into the flat surface. The zombie growled and fell backward, it's feet kicking in the air as it went down.

"Sorry Ref, out of bounds." Brooklyn shrugged at the zombie before he picked up his shovel. In both hands he twirled the weapon then rose it into the air. He slammed the flat end onto the forehead of the zombie, the same metal ring sung in the air from the strike. Then he lifted it high into the air again and swung it down. Blood splattered from the zombie's head on each strike, spattering on the tile around him. Brooklyn straightened his back and turned his head to Amarillo.

"Whaddya' think?" He questioned.

"I think you need help." Amarillo sighed before walking toward the stores entrance.

---------------------------

"Would you look at all these shoes! I don't know which one to chose from!" Brooklyn squealed like a giddy school girl.

"Theoretically you could take them all." Amarillo answered as she sat on a metal bench, her legs crossed.

"Ow, I like these high-tops. Oh wait! Look at these basketball shoes! No way! They still sell see through shoes!?"

"You've got to be kidding me. . ." The girl sighed again, resting her forehead in her hand.

_If there's one thing I like more than anything, it's shoes. Each pair I own I cherish until I get new ones. Most of my money I earned went to shoes. I even started to collect shoes up until it didn't matter._

Brooklyn's eyes shifted to a tightly sealed glass case. Inside the glass was a pair of black and white shoes.

"No way. . ." He gasped. Brooklyn smooshed his face on the glass case and stared at the shoes within. "Bill Russell Autographed converse shoes. . ." Before Amarillo could stand Brooklyn took the butt of his rifle and smashed into the glass.

"Whoa, what are you doing?" Amarillo asked as she stepped back from the falling glass.

"I'm getting my shoes. These babies are autographed by Bill Russell himself! This single pair could go for well over a thousand dollars." After explaining briefly Brooklyn ran to the bench and took off his old shoes.

"Your going to wear them?"

"Yeah, no ones going to care. Everyone's dead." He slid his left foot out of one shoe "Bill Russell played for the Boston Celtics way back in the day! This is NBA gold right here! I can't believe I'm about to put these on!" Brooklyn slipped the pair of shoes on. "Wow. . ."

"Are you going to be alright?" Amarillo smirked, seeing a clear possibility of Brooklyn fainting.

"Ok, I'm done. Let's get out of here. I don't want to know why or how they got here."

"Ok, I can do that. Let's go before you die of excitement." The two strode out of the store, Amarillo leading the way. On one last impulse Brooklyn grabbed one of the stacked boxes of shoes. He tucked the cardboard container under his arm and jogged off.

---------------------------

Twenty minutes after Brooklyn had found his shoes, he and Amarillo moved to the food court.

"Seriously, watch this." Amarillo shouted slightly, continuing their campaign of destruction. She stepped next to a child's ride and smiled. It was some sick mockup of two clowns riding in a brightly colored car. From first examination it looked like any poor kid that wasted fifty cents on the ride would sit in the back as the car rocked back and forth. Amarillo picked up a light metal chair and swung it at the passenger clown's head on the ride. It snapped off and flew over the railing, tumbling over and over, then it shattered on the ground below.

"Ops, sorry." She joked.

"Nice, check this." Brooklyn picked up speed as he caught Amarillo's attention. Then he held up his shovel and swung it at the driver clown's head. It flew off the shoulders of the fake figure and launched into the air. It carried on forever until it shattered into a store fronts window across the twenty foot gap, snapping a manikin in the window in half.

"Double kill. . ."

"Oh my god! You actually did that!" Amarillo jumped up and down. Brooklyn tossed the girl his shovel as he ran to a ice cream booth. Amarillo continued to whack the yellow truck to smithereens as Brooklyn pushed the dippin' dots booth to an escalader. The front wheels slid off the first step as he stopped pushing it. With a steady kick the booth began jumping the stairs. Amarillo ran next to Brooklyn to see the ice cream kiosk spill some of it's contents. The roof part of it broke off and fell off the side of the escalader. Finally the booth tumbled over itself, all the ice cream dots flowed out of the chilled bins and spread out on the metal steps and tiled floor.

"That is a mess!" Amarillo giggled as she looked at the destruction below.

"We probably ought to find that truck now." Brooklyn looked up from the obliterated booth on wheels.

"Yeah, probably. Let's go."

---------------------------

"You know, I can't understand why they call them 'ant eaters'." Amarillo divulged while they walked down the road.

"Wow. That was random and completely off topic of what we were talking about entirely." Brooklyn said in disbelief.

"What were we talking about?"

Brooklyn sighed "We were talking about my past. . ."

"Oh. . . Fuck that. . . Heh heh. . ."

Brooklyn held his mouth open, his eyes looking up at his eyebrow "Ok. . . That hurt."

Amarillo brought a bottle to her lips and too a long swill of the crystal clear liquid. Brooklyn glanced at the bubbles floating up from her mouth to the bottom of the bottle then looked in front of him.

"Whoa! Wait! Where did you get that?!" He shouted as he took a double take.

"I've had it. . ." She answered in a fog.

"How long have you been drinking that- Is that everclear!" Brooklyn grabbed the bottle from her hand "Holy shit! It is. Where did you get this?"

"'Eh, up yours. I can handle myselfff. . ." Amarillo stumbled off to the right. Brooklyn jumped to her aid and wrapped her arm around his shoulder.

"Jesus, your wasted."

"I recycle. . .hhuuhhhmm." She tripped over her aided feet and looked to the ground. Brooklyn smelled the alcohol on her breath, mixed in with her actual scent. A large gray vehicle was spotted parked on the side of the road. Brooklyn chose that as their new vehicle, seeing that Amarillo wouldn't have any input on it. He dragged her next to the suburban and placed her against the passenger side.

"Ok, lean against that. I'll be back around."

"I won't conform! . . . Okaay." She drabbled. Brooklyn paused and held his finger up, about to say something, instead he just continued to the driver's side. Opening the door he sat in the seat, placing his rifle and shovel in the back. Then he looked frantically for the keys to the ignition. The glove box, consol compartment, even under the seat, nothing held the keys.

"Hey look. There's another person that's drunk, like me." Amarillo said through the window. Brooklyn looked up to see her limping toward a zombie, that was limping to her.

"No! No!" He yelled, shaking his hands in the window, signaling her to stop. Amarillo continued on her path to met this 'drunk person'.

"Amarillo! Stop, no! Zombie! Zombie, bad! Zombie, no, bad, stop! No!" Brooklyn then jumped out of the suburban and ran after his partner. He ran at a full sprint to the two hobbling bodies. He whirled past Amarillo and looked at the frantic zombie. It's eyes shifted to Brooklyn and began to limp at him. Brooklyn balled his fist, then drew it back. He swung a powerful right hook into the side of the zombies temple. The undead male groaned and fell sideways. It's head smashed into a parked cars door, the car alarm began to sound off.

"Let's go! Back to the car!" Brooklyn shouted.

"You beat his ass!" The drunk girl shouted "Do you fight in the yeweuffsea?"

"Wha-? The UFC? No, I don't, lets just go."

Finally Brooklyn got a hold of the girl and guided her into the suburban. He shut the passenger door and ran around to the driver's side. Sitting in the driver's seat he shut the door and put down the sun visor and a single key fell into his lap then to the floor mat.

"Nice. . ." He mumbled before going after the key. Swatting his hand in between his knees and feet he felt for the key. Finally his fingernail snagged the plastic end of the key and he picked it up. Brooklyn lifted his head up and examined the key.

"Ok, now we can- Holy Shit!!" A scream yelled in his right ear. He turned his head slightly to see a female zombie's head next to his, blood drooled from her mouth to his shoulder. An even louder blast erupted from behind the female zombie.

"Ah! God damn!" Brooklyn squirmed in his seat, wrapping his arms around his head.

"Take that. . . Bee-otch." Amarillo commented, holding a smoking shotgun. Brooklyn blinked as he examined the fine texture of the barrel, blood dripped down the side and back of his head. He blinked a few more times before slowly turning his head and starting the engine. He maneuvered the hummer out onto the street and into the direction of his broken down truck.

_Now I'm pretty sure that was the most freaked out I have been in a long time. I don't handle things screeching right behind me very well, let alone guns being blasted within the two inch range of my head. That was the second. And still unpleasant time it has happened. We could have avoided that had I checked the back seat first. I'm pretty sure there's a rule for that, and if there's not, there should be._

---------------------------

Brooklyn wiped the blood off the driver's seat headrest and from the floor board.

"I'm so glad this is all leather." He commented as he finished cleaning up the last spots of blood. He jumped out of the back seat and threw the towel on the zombie's body he had already taken out of the vehicle. Then Brooklyn stepped to the trunk door and shut it. He had already unpacked the nuclear device from it's box and wrapped the tarp around it before placing it in the back. At least it didn't look like a nuke, if you didn't already know it was one. Brooklyn climbed into the driver's seat and shut his door. He sat still for a minute then carefully turned his head to the back seat. Now that he knew nothing had crept in the back, he started the suburban.

"Are you ready to hit the road again?" He asked Amarillo.

"Huh? Yeah." She spoke, waking up from her slight nap. The vehicle then set off down the road, back on track. Amarillo scooted closer to Brooklyn then laid down.

"That look's mad uncomfortable- oh, ok." He stopped himself as she rested her head in his lap. He shimmied back in his seat, nervous by the extremely awkward position. He tried to move Amarillo's head off of him but there was no way. Finally he accepted it for what it was, shifting his eyes from the road to her resting, peaceful, inebriated face. He brought his right hand from the steering wheel to brush a few strands of hair out of her face. Then he looked at her curled up body. He leaned forward and took off his jacket, one arm at a time, then gently placed it on top of her. Perhaps this wasn't going to be a journey full of mental hardship. For now, it seemed, Brooklyn had a friend. A drunk, near suicidal, more liability than amenity, friend.

* * *

**A/N: **Quick apology. I am extremely sorry this chapter was bolded, italicized, and underlined for the first few days of it being up. I must of hit the obscenely wrong button, or combination of buttons to get it to do that. So again I am sorry, it should be fixed now.


	4. Rule number one

_I suppose you've earned something from me now. I'll let you in on one of my many, many secrets. I've never been that, how do you say it. . . Experienced, with the ladies. As a matter of fact that was the only time I had a girl's head in my lap. Apparently that happens all the time, just not to me, right? Before the world went through it's radical reconstruction I was on the verge of acquiring a female companion, of sorts. At least I like to think that. It all started a few weeks before the outbreak. There was this girl I met with my friend. I mean she was amazing. Every time I made her smile my heart literally stopped beating. When we made eye contact I couldn't hold an intelligent conversation what so ever. I was lost in her gaze every single time. Ah. . . Good old memories, the things that keep you disappointed in the future. Anyway, now you can't say Brooklyn never gives you anything._

"Hey, when is she suppose to text you?" A voice over the phone questioned.

"When you shut your mouth and hang up the phone. That's when." The kid on the other side of the phone retorted, one hand on the car's steering wheel.

"Very funny Danny."

"Do not, call me Danny. You know I hate that."

_Yup, that's me. My name was Daniel Bloomfield, before my zombie escapades of course. It has a nice ring to it, don't you think?_

"I know you do. That's why I said it. Anyway I'll let you go so you can get that text message. Maybe you'll lose your virginity tonight."

"Oh you're just a bucket of laughs. . .You make me sick Troy, you really do." Dan stared forward, smiling in disgust.

"What? Why? Isn't that what it's all about?" Troy halted, confused by his friends tone.

"It's not even that, you're way out of the park. It's much more than that. This is something on a grander scale."

"Pfft, c'mon. You're a hopeless romantic, you know that?"

"Aren't we all. . . Well, all except for you." Daniel shot another snap at his friend before ending the call. He then tossed the phone on the passenger seat.

_That was my best friend. Well, best friend in California. He was a shallow prick, but a good friend. The way he talks, I swear. I felt sorry for every girl that became his girlfriend, or even came in contact with him for that matter._

The black Celica Dan drove traveled down the street, the night's veil of shadows practically making it invisible. Its destination was this girl's house, the one Dan wanted to ask out. He had sent several messages before he took off to her place. She hadn't replied to any of them for over twenty minutes. He had no choice but to go pick her up. They had planned to hang out tonight for over three weeks so the best thing to do was stick with it. Daniel couldn't wait till tonight. The chance to see this girl again was almost frightening, but it was sheer bliss. Her smile, laugh, personality, and those eyes, oh those eyes. No holiday could come near the excitement that the promise of seeing her again could summon. Above anything else he wanted to ask her out. He had never asked any girl out in his life. Which is quite strange, if not pathetic, for a nineteen year old male. But these feelings, these feelings for her couldn't be ignored. Dan had never experienced such intense emotions for a single person. No other human of the opposite gender ever captivated him the way she did. A horn blared loudly from behind his car, ripping the teenager from his thoughts. Dan looked up at the green traffic light in front of him and pushed down the accelerator gently.

"There you go again, thinking about her too much. Snap out of it, drive, and don't crash." He instructed himself while gripping the steering wheel tight.

* * *

Five more minutes of driving passed, he was now within a few miles of the girl's house. Suddenly a light beamed up from the seat next to him, it was his cell phone's backlight going off. Then another was received, the phone vibrating wildly. Dan's heart pounded as he looked for a nice place to stop the vehicle. It was against him to do what so many other teens have done, text while driving. The black car pulled into an office building parking lot. Then after scanning the flat area with the car's headlights he put the Celica in park and reached for his phone. He clenched the phone and tilted his head back, praying for the text messages to be from her. Sliding his phone open the name on the message said 'Rachel'. Yes, it was her! The adrenaline rushed through Dan's body as he opened the message.

'No don't come!' it read. Daniel's spirits shattered as he stared at the small screen. He eyed the black words in shock, his mouth open. Then he read the sentence one more time and closed the message. He opened the other text, searching for an explanation.

'Some friends came over.' The message displayed. Dan's hopes were utterly crushed as the excuse rung within him. How could friends that came over just minutes ago beat plans that were set nearly a month ago? He slammed his head back on the headrest, disappointed. There was nothing he could do about it that wouldn't make him look like an ass. He hit the enter button to reply.

'Oh wow. Good thing you messaged me when you did. I'm still at my house.' Dan lied. Not wanting to make Rachel feel guilty. Light beamed from the back window of his car, it rocked up and down in a peculiar fashion. Then, the next thing he realized was his nose buried deep within the driver side airbag. He felt his car skid for several feet until it lost momentum. The sound of stressed tires and crinkling metal resonated in his busy ears. Daniel groaned and looked up from his oddly flavored safety pillow.

"You hit me? In a parking lot. . .?" He muttered to himself, pretending to speak to the driver that smashed into the rear of his Celica. "This is gonna' be fun. . .".

Opening his car door he stumbled out of the vehicle and turned to the pickup that was happily lodged in the trunk of his car.

"So what happened? Just didn't feel like driving on the road tonight? What brilliant idea triggered this wonderful chain of events?" Dan continued to question in utmost sarcasm.

He wheeled around to the driver side of the large gray truck. He leaned forward to check on the driver, who was obviously caught in the more serious side of the crash. The airbag in the cab deflated slowly as the female driver showed clearly. Her hand slid down to her side, blood streaked down the white air blanket with her fingers.

"Jesus. . . Ma'am, are you alright?" Daniel grew concerned. He stepped right next to the window and knocked slightly.

"Ma'am can you hear me?" No response was heard. "Oh god." He gasped as more blood appeared where the woman's chest was pressed against the fabric. Dan quickly stuck the tips of his fingers under the door handle and tried to pull the door open. The lock must have been set or something, he couldn't get the door to budge for the life of him.

"Miss! -_knocks on the window-_ Miss! I'm going to go get help, stay there!" He yelled through the window. Suddenly the woman ripped her head toward the window, her bloody face apparent.

"Ho shit!" Daniel roared as he leaped backward, as far as his legs could spring away from the sudden stimulus. The female shook violently in her seat as she repeatedly struck the truck's door.

"What in the, world." Dan whispered in disturbing amazement. The lady then smashed her head with such force on the window that the truck began to rock side to side.

"Lady! I really wouldn't advise that!" Dan got up to his feet, holding his hands out in a sign to cease her activity "Tha-That is not what car accident victims are suppose to do!"

Finally the window shattered and collapsed upon itself. The woman then screamed at Daniel and draped her arms over the window seal. The bottom of her arms shredded on the bits of glass left as she disregarded the pain. Then she spilled over the door and landed on her face. A quick snort sounded as she toppled over.

"Now I'm really not surprised you hit me in a parking lot, the way your dumb ass is handling the situation." Dan commented as he watched the lady slowly recover from the fall. "There are defiantly more efficient ways to exit a vehicle."

"Aah, ruuuh. . . Rah! Murh!" The woman barked as she rose to her feet. Blood flooded out of her mouth, along with other unsightly substances. Dan grimaced as he eyed the liquid hit the pavement with a distinct splatter. Her eyes pierced through his body with a demonic gaze. She screamed again, this time with a frightening shrill. Dan backed up slowly as he distanced himself from the very intimidating human. The woman then burst in a full charge at the kid in front of her.

"Holy shit!" Dan yelled as he turned and began running. Pants and huffs echoed from behind him as this, thing, chased him. He looked over his shoulder to see the bloody lady right on his tail. Daniel rushed down the street as fast as he could. An intersection was off in the distance. That meant other people, and other people meant safety. Each time one of his feet hit the ground it jarred his body to the core, not having ran like this, ever.

"The worst day this year!" He said to himself in an elevated tone. His pursuer wheezed and roared behind him, as if she was replying to his words. The traffic lights were now thirty feet in front of him, two people stood waiting for their turn to walk across the road.

* * *

"I can't believe this traffic." A man in a suit spoke.

"It gets bad this time of night." The woman next to him, in jogging attire explained.

"Yeah? how long have you been living here?"

"Seven years. You'll get used to it."

"Really?" He question inquisitively.

"Yup." She answered, keeping her speech short as she kept her cardio up, bouncing up and down on each foot.

"So, are you -"

"**Someone kill this bitch!" **A boy exclaimed as he ran in between the two.

"Hrruh! Erraah!" A woman grunted, as she too passed through, in step with the kid she was chasing. The man in the suit followed the two with his eyes then stared at the jogging woman next to him. She did the same. Both had an incredibly confused look in their expression.

* * *

Daniel sprinted across the busy street. Cars honked and slammed on their brakes as he passed in front of them. A taxi skid to a hold right in Dan's way. He jumped as high as he could and planted one foot on the hood. Then he set his left foot down on the yellow sheet of metal and sprung off the car. He was more than nine feet off the ground. A sedan slid on it's brakes under Daniel's tucked in feet. In slow motion he met eyes with the driver, a shocked look upon his face. Then Dan's shoes slapped on the concrete median. Dan tucked his shoulders in and rolled to avoid most of the shock recoiling in his legs. He stumbled to his feet and glanced back. The ravenous person chasing him still pressed forward.

"Fuck me!" He exclaimed before snapping his head forward. As soon as he did a truck horn bellowed to his right. A semi truck's grill grew in size, coming at him. With a heave Dan dove forward, bending his feet over his knees. Crashing to the ground he skid on his chest and stomach on the asphalt. As the dust settled he looked back just in time to see the woman that was chasing him flying off to the side.

"Holy, -snaps." Dan gasped as he saw the woman collapse to the ground motionless, obviously struck by the huge truck just a foot away from his legs. He twisted on his back, propping his body up with his left elbow. Daniel studied what he believe was the dead body of the psycho-lady. Then her arm twitched and her palm pressed against the ground.

"You have got to be kidding me!" He shouted in disbelief. The stubborn woman climbed to her knees. Dan did the same but instead of running, he watched the superhuman event unfold. The lady stepped on her right foot but the shin buckled and tore off altogether. She then began to crawl after her prey, wagging her fleshy nub about.

"Dear god." Dan's jaw dropped as he witnessed the sickening event. Not making the same mistake twice he bolted away from the obsessed female-thing.

* * *

_That was my first encounter with a zombie. It's surprisingly similar to what all zombie encounters look like. The running, the heavy breathing, the involuntary urination. It all is some sick algorithm of Zombieland survival._

Daniel walked at a brisk pace up the hill, next to the very street he drove on earlier with much higher hopes. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and hit several buttons before putting it up to his ear. It rang several times before it sounded like someone picked up.

"Hey Troy." Dan greeted with haste.

"Oh hey man-" Troy's voice spoke.

"Dude, I need to ask you-"

"How's it going? I'm beast, thanks for asking. As you may have guess I'm not at the phone right now-"

"Damn it! I hate his voice mail!" Dan shouted before ending the call. He then dialed it and tried again. Again it rang a few more times before background noise hummed in the earpiece.

"Troy?" Daniel questioned.

"Yeah?" The real Troy sounded back."Hey, I need to ask you a big favor."

"Ok, what is it?"

"I need you to pick me up. My car's been wrecked."

"What? How?" Troy slung the questions at Dan.

"Some lady ran into the back of it. It happened in a parking lot-"

"You've got to be kidding me!" Troy laughed on the other end.

"No, that's not even the weirdest part. I'm pretty sure she tried to eat me afterward."

"Well, did you let her?"

Dan let his arm go slack and fall to his side while rolling his eyes "No, I didn't."

"What about Rachel? Why aren't you two hanging out?"

"Hey- listen. Just - can you come pick me up?! I'll tell you everything in the car." Daniel stumbled for words.

"Ok. Where are you?"

"I'm at the plaza with Best Buy and JC Penny's. Meet me in the parking lot."

"Alright. On my way man."

"Ok, bye."

"Bye." Troy ended the call. Dan pressed the end button and slid the phone in his jeans pocket. Low beats sounded off in the horizon. Daniel looked to where the sound was emanating from to see multiple lights in the night sky. They were helicopters, must have been ten of them grouped together. He ran to the middle of the large plaza parking lot to watch them fly across the sky about a half mile out. Off to the right where it looked like the Chinooks were headed, the clouds pulsated with an amber tint. It looked like something was glowing over there, like an incredibly large fire. Dan ran toward a near store to see if he could get some information. He looked toward the right to see a Sports Authority tucked in between two other storefronts. He pointed his finger slightly to the sporting store and nodded before jogging to the store. Daniel had something in mind, just incase things went even more down hill.

* * *

Entering the store he saw people behaving normally, as if nothing has or will happen. Dan passed a section of the large store with treadmills and stationary bikes. He eyed the signs hanging from the ceiling to see if he could find anything of use to him. He didn't have the money or the means to buy a firearm, nor did the store sell guns. He stepped in a slight jog to the tools section. Before he could enter the isle he saw a few people gathered near a TV. Dan inquisitively walked over to it and looked over two men's shoulders.

"- However the National Guard is estimated to have the rioting contained by eleven o'clock PM. Now on to Stacy Butler for live coverage." The news anchor on the TV spoke in that emotionless, news-y tone.

"Yes Rick. Right now we are situated about a half a mile from the center of the rioting. The National Guard has set up a perimeter and hasn't allowed KCAL News to go passed the blockade. They haven't given us any further information about the uproar other than possibly hundreds of people are involved in the rioting. The cause of which is still unknown. A News Conference is to take place within the next hour Rick." The reporter updated.

"Has any events accorded since you've been out there Stacey?" The anchor asked.

"No Rick. However, we did here gunshots moments ago. It is unknown whether it was live or non-lethal ammunition."

"Jeez." Dan muttered to himself before walking back to the tool isle. Sifting through the various products with his eyes he looked for something of use. A shovel caught his attention. It had a standard metal handle on the back and metal shaft. The digging end was a nice shiny steel color. If there were anymore of those things, this would be the piece of hardware to get the job done. Whatever the job was, he hadn't put that much thought into it. Daniel took the spade and ran to the cashier booths. Ducking and weaving through the sports clothing and outdoor wear Dan spotted an open cash register. He turned into one the empty desk and put the shovel on the counter.

"Is this all for you today?" The female cashier spoke.

"Yes." Dan nodded, shifting his head up from his wallet.

"Ok, your total will be forty three eighteen."

"Alright." Dan confirmed as he slid his credit card through the machine.

"Have a great night." She said after confirming the transaction.

"Thanks, you too." he walked off but stopped a few paces away "Hey, you might want to get yourself one of these too." Dan warned the girl but she turned away before he finished the sentence. He shrugged and went for the front entrance. Shovel in hand he opened his phone and scrolled to the text messages. No new ones in his inbox, not even an apology. He opened the older messages from her, the ones that told him not to come pick her up. As Daniel exited the brightly lit front door to the parking lot he sighed at the sight of the words on his phone. A roar came from his left. Instantly he turned his head to see a rather heavy set man charging at him. Dan took off with haste, knowing the drill. Daniel kept a mental note that; if anyone were to roar at him before exchanging words, it was time to run. He tucked his phone in his pants pocket as he ran. Coming down the lot was Troy's distinct red Mustang. Dan took off toward his friend leaving the wheezing zombie in the dust. Looking back Dan saw the large brute slowing down behind him, but then something collided with his legs. As he slammed into it he noticed it was Troy's Mustang, he had ran into the front. The shovel clanked menacingly on the shiny metal hood. A honk blared in his face, Troy's disdain evident. Daniel stepped to the passenger side and opened the door.

"Dude! You damaged my hood!" Troy scolded.

"That's the least of your worries. Now let's go before slim decides to repeat what I did." Daniel hurried.

* * *

"So why didn't you pick Rachel up?" Troy interrogated.

"She was busy." Dan excused.

"With what?"

"She - Her parents wanted her to stay home. - Because of this riot." He lied. Avoiding the sting of the truth.

"That sucks, that's why I live by myself."

"Yeah. . ."

"So her 'rents will let her come with us?"

"Yes, we need to save her. Shit's about to get real. We've got to - Dude watch out!" Daniel yelled, clenching the ceiling handle while Troy dodged a person in the street.

"Shit dude. Why are all these people in the street." Troy vented the quick adrenaline rush.

"They're - They're not people Troy." Dan swallowed as he noticed the same look in their eyes as the woman that chased him earlier.

"What do you mean?" Troy question, his voice unsure.

"I mean they're not human, they're something else - Zombies, they're zombies."

"Bullshit."

Dan shook his head at his friends unwillingness to accept the situation for what it was. "I hope she's alright."

"What the fuck. . ." Troy gasped, unaware of what Dan said.

"What?"

"Dude, that guy's eating someone!"

"Oh my god. . . I told you they were zombies."

"Why isn't the National Guard out here?! We need help out here!" Troy yelled in the sports car, furious that there was no help in sight.

"I don't know. Maybe they got over run? I don't know man let's just get to Rachel's!" Daniel's voice cracked with unnerving anxiety. Troy slammed on the gas pedal, causing the Mustang to launch violently forward. More zombies shuffled on the street as the red car weaved side to side. They were now going well over sixty miles an hour, in a forty mile an hour zone. From the lack of authorities and people all together the speed limit really didn't matter. As the Mustang crested a hill a SUV blared past, another driver trying to escape. Dan peered out his side window noticing the wide view he had on the high ground. Down below in an apartment complex parking lot flashes erupted from the middle of the lot. It was gunfire from, what looked like four people defending themselves. Daniel eyed each muzzle flash, left, right, top, bottom as they went off. Then the group of people fell out of the range of view as the car went down the other side of the hill.

"I can't believe this is happening man." Troy confessed.

"I know. . . We need to accept it for what it is and keep ourselves together if we want to survive this."

Troy turned the steering wheel hand over hand to the right "How can anyone accept this?"

"I don't know. . . Ok, here's her house." Dan pointed at the fifth house on the right. It was a two story white colored house. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, nothing at all. The Mustang pulled next to the curb, it's lights still on.

"Ok, how are we going to do this dude?" Troy questioned, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the gear shift.

"I'll go in by myself-"

"Are you insane?! This is a zombie friggin' ass outbreak! We need to stick the hell together. Not to mention you just said 'stick together'!" Troy exclaimed in a flurry of rational thinking.

"Ok, ok. Come on, lets go." Daniel grabbed his shovel and put his hand on the door handle and opened it. Troy stepped out of his side of the car and ran next to Dan. The two nodded to each other and began walking to the front door. Gun fire pounded in the sky as Dan kept his ears alert. He led the way up the front steps and to the front door. The two friends shot a glance at one another again before Dan knocked. Three distinct pounds on the wooden door thumped. A few moments pasted and there was no activity present within the house. The thoughts in Dan's head flooded with dreaded scenarios. A cold sweat began to perspire on his forehead and face. He turned his side to the door and rammed his shoulder into it. A crack sounded near the door lock. Stepping back he threw a kick near the handle, the door swung open with bits of wood splintering to the ground. Stepping in to the house Dan eyed the immediate area, looking for some indication of the girl.

"Rachel!" Dan shouted in the house.

"Mister and Misses Brown?" Troy asked aloud. Daniel turned his head to the left and right before quickly marching up the stairs.

"Stay down there. I'm going to check upstairs." Dan ordered. Troy nodded and stepped toward the living room. As Dan met the top of the stairs he turned to the left in the hallway. Walking cautiously through the narrow hall he kept the shovel to his side. He clenched it tightly in his grasp as he came upon a doorway on the left. Leaning his head and shoulders in the open door he saw nothing. It was a bathroom, the shower curtain was kept nicely closed, a flower print on them. The sink had several foreign utensils on it, possibly used to straighten hair, or cook small pieces of toast. Dan moved back down the hallway looking for any signs of Rachel. Suddenly a noise came from the furthest room directly at the end of the hall. Daniel sprinted to the room knowing for sure that was Rachel. As he stepped into the door he saw a pair of legs laying behind the foot of a bed. They looked to have penny loafers on and gray creased pants, defiantly not Rachel's.

"Hello?" Dan managed to say at the legs, seeing if he could get a response. Upon the sound of his voice fading from the room a figure stood up from behind the bed. It was a female with a white short sleeved shirt on and blue jeans.

"Rachel. . .?" Dan called out to the girl. It was undoubtedly her, but he asked anyway, to see if she was alright rather than asking for identification. She slowly turned around, toward his voice. Daniel smiled briefly, it was her, and she could hear him.

"Rachel, we need to get out of here." He took one step into the door. The girl whirled around, screeching an audible 'no', whether she meant to say it was unclear. Blood covered her mouth and down her neck and chest, soaked fully into her shirt. Dan's mouth opened in shock as his eyes instantly went to a sad look. Zombiefied Rachel charged at the living human. Dan quickly looked around for something to help him. Not finding anything he leaned into the room, closer to the zombie, and grabbed the door knob on impulse. Pulling it toward him it shut. Things went quiet for a moment. Bloody arms burst from the wooden door and grabbed his left arm.

"Ah!" He cried in shock. Rachel then slammed her head through the door, her mouth agape to bite his forearm. Dan landed a swift punch in her face through the door and the zombie's upper body leaned back. Pulling his hand out of the door he grabbed onto the arm still latched onto his. Pulling with all his being Dan managed to escape, but the hand still squeezed his arm.

"Ah! Ah shit!" Dan jumped up and down, swatting the zombie arm wildly with his right hand. Finally it fell off and he turned to run to the stairs. Two more zombies stepped out of the doors on both sides, must have been Rachel's friends. Daniel's eyes opened wide as he still went full sprint at the two walking corpses. He brought the shovel forward and up to his shoulders. Keeping it horizontal he aimed both ends for the two zombie's heads.

"Eerr!" Dan growled as the impact came with in milliseconds. The shovel finally kicked back in his hands as both the digging end and handle collided with the undead heads. They grunted and fell to the ground. Now within feet of the stairs Dan held his hand out to grasp the railing. He stopped himself and turned at the hellish hallway. Zombie Rachel limped quickly after him, one arm missing and a large pieces of door lodged in her abdomen and chest. Dan turned his left side to her and twirled the shovel in his hands.

"If I can't be with you, I might as well end your misery. . ." He muttered to himself as he prepared to kill his crush. He charged at her, shovel raised chest high behind him. The zombie wheezed wildly as her potential meal came closer.

Daniel lifted the spade over his head and sized up his target "Erraah!" He roared as he brought the handle forward and into the zombie's teeth. Teeth and blood burst from Rachel's mouth, the same mouth that once held that beautiful smile. The Zombie then dropped to her knees. Dan stepped back and brought the shovel once more over his head. Like an axe he swung the digging tool down on the zombie. The side of the spade lodged deep within Rachel's head, right square in the middle. Her eyes, the eyes that used to leave Dan in a trance, rolled back into her head and she went limp. Blood oozed from the fatal injury, running through her light brown hair. Dan pulled at the shovel, but it was firmly stuck in the zombie's cranium. He repositioned himself and tried again. One good yank slid the blade a few centimeters but not fully out. Releasing his grip he once again repositioned himself, this time his foot placed in between the dead zombie's chest. Dan tugged and rocked the handle up and down. Fleshy grinding sounded as the metal ground against the skull. Finally with a sharp singing, the shovel came loose. Daniel placed the shovel's end on the carpet and he rested on it. He collapsed to his knee as he let out a sharp gasp of anguish. He placed his hand on his forehead and shook his head slowly, not wanting to accept what he had just done. After a few minutes of disbelief Dan stood up and walked down the stairs.

* * *

The eerie silence that was present when Dan entered the house befell it again. He reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped into the foyer. On the table right next to the door sat a phone, it was Rachel's phone. Leaning his head in intrigued, Daniel picked up the iPhone and turned the screen on. The alert message showed seventy-nine new text messages.

'Seventy-nine!?" Dan's tone was that of disbelief. In hindsight it wasn't that ridiculous. He knew she was popular and a lot of people knew her as a friend. He didn't have any experience with this sort of thing. He was never real popular so the estimated number of text messages one would receive in a zombie apocalypse was unknown. Dan scrolled through a few of them. Most of which asking whether Rachel was alright and if she knew what was going on. One said that they were chased by their insane father and hid in a cabinet, begging for Rachel to help them. Then Daniel noticed that there was one text message saved as a draft. He opened it and to his amazement it was to him.

'1 of my friends came over in shock. She said she was bit by sum1 on th-' and that was where the message ended. So it was one of her friends that came over and infected her.

"Why couldn't you have just followed our plans. . ." Dan sighed. A vibration in his pocket alerted him. He dug franticly in his pocket and pulled out his phone.

"Hello?" He answered.

"Dan, Dan it's me." Troy spoke back.

"Troy?! Where are you?"

"Jus. . . Just get out of there. Erm." Troy's voice was laden with pain.

"Wha-? Where are you?" Daniel repeated.

"I don't know. I ran out of there. Hurm. . . Rachel's mom bit me. . . Run."

". . . " Dan couldn't speak. On hearing the word 'run' he pieced together the puzzle. Troy was bit by Rachel's mom and ran, ran from the house, Rachel's mom was still in the house. He turned his head around to see a larger figure behind him. Startled he bolted for the door. Jumping of the front porch Dan continued to run as fast as he could down the street. Troy's red Mustang was still out front but Dan didn't have the keys, it was on foot from here.

"Troy! Where are you?! I'm coming for you!" Dan yelled over his heavy breathing and footfall.

"There are more coming, just run. Get out of here."

"No! I'm not leaving you!"

"Go, leave man. . . You've been a good friend." Troy's voice was now labored and somewhat frightened, zombies were coming, and they were in his sight.

"Fuck. . . no, Troy!" Daniel managed to yell into the phone before Troy hung up. Dan looked back quickly then forward. Tears welled up in his eyes, he wiped them with the back of his right hand, still holding the phone. Daniel gripped the shovel with his left hand firmly, channeling his emotions. He was now alone, from here on out.


	5. Gotta' enjoy the little things

_Driving comes second nature here in Zombieland. If you were, god forbid, born in Zombieland, you learned to drive before you could walk. it's probably run rather than walk now, those zombies love the bite-sized ones, but you get the jest of what I'm trying to say here. It's so second nature in fact, you start to do other things while driving. One such thing is cleaning your gun. I am the master of laptop gun deconstruction, literally. It's the reconstruction part that gets me though, all those small pieces falling to the floor do a number on efficiency. Another thing to do while driving is the three S's, if you don't know what it is I recommend you google it. I'm not going to go into detail on how all that is done. . ._

Brooklyn held the steering wheel effortlessly while he pulled something out of his right pocket. It was his old cell phone, of course it didn't work, but he still kept it. The black slider style phone had just about a half a bar left of battery as he looked at the display. Brooklyn slid it open and looked through the various menus.

'No don't come!' he read over and over on the screen, dwelling in the past.

"Are you alright?" Amarillo questioned as she woke up, noticing the scowl on her driver's face.

Brooklyn quickly lifted his head and slung the phone out of his window "Yeah I'm good."

"Was that a cell phone?" Amarillo asked in an elevated tone as she lifted her self up to look through the back window.

"Wha-? No, no. It wasn't."

"Then what was it?"

". . . Nothing. . .?" He looked around with his eyes.

"Yeah. . ." Amarillo said with suspicion as she sat straight in her chair. She bounced in her seat a few times as she eyed the foliage passing on the side of the road. The dust colored plants offered little in the way of scenery, but something to wakeup to nonetheless. Brooklyn glanced at her for a brief moment then back to the road. A full silent minute passed between the two. Air hummed at a relaxing volume past the Suburban, inviting sleep to both occupants in the vehicle. However the annoyance of the roar from the open driver side window canceled that out. Brooklyn rolled up his side window, sealing out the loud whip of air.

"You know if you were just looking at sexy women pictures that's alright with me." Amarillo stated bluntly, referring to the cell phone that was thrown out the window minutes ago.

"**What?!**" Brooklyn shouted in a confused shock.

The girl turned to him and shrugged. "I'm just sayin'."

"Yeah, well, some things aren't meant to be said."

"Grumpy, are we?"

Brooklyn turned his head off to the left "I don't enjoy gender specific assumptions."

She giggled slightly "PMS much?"

"Aren't you supposed to be hung over?" The boy changed the subject.

"What? Oh." She answered her own question as she saw the bottle of Everclear in the cup holder. "About that. . ." She cringed.

"Nah, don't worry about it. I'm just making a witty comeback. Don't mind me."

"Sorry about what happened, last night. I didn't mean to get that hammered." Amarillo apologized anyway. "I, I just wanted to make a good moment better. . ."

"A 'good moment', huh? Well with something as potent as **that** it'd be kinda' hard not to. . . Not to get hammered, that is." Brooklyn grabbed the bottle and smelled the contents "Hooo, yeah that's something else. I wouldn't be surprised if your breath's still flammable."

"You're funny." Amarillo smiled.

"Glad you think so. I try to make Z-land as enjoyable for all as it is for me."

"How nice of you to be so giving of yourself." She smirked again before climbing over the center console.

"Whoa, whoa. What are you doing?" Brooklyn asked in a storm of confusion.

"Going in the back to get dressed. I need to change." She answered as she hopped onto the backseat.

"Oh ok. Cool. That's cool. Changing clothes is, cool." He dismissed nervously. Amarillo climbed over the seat and into the back, next to the wrapped up nuke and bags of her clothes. Brooklyn concentrated on keeping his eyes on the road. He heard rustling sounds coming from the back. He followed the yellow line on the road with his eyes. Brooklyn tried to preoccupied himself by keeping the center of the hood on the line. Breaking his concentration he glanced at the rearview mirror, not able to inhibit the forbidden act.

_Hey, if you were in my position you would have done the same thing. Yeah, you would have. You can't tell me that you wouldn't look back if you had a fine female specimen gettin' undressed in __**Your**__ backseat. How often does that happen?!_

He saw a brief glimpse of the back of Amarillo's bare shoulder and neck before he forcefully pulled his eyes away. Brooklyn grabbed the bottle of Everclear and took a quick drink before putting it back, his cheeks a distinct pink. He then stared to the side of the road through his side window, as inconspicuous as he could possibly be. The sting of the alcohol burned up to his throat and nose then to his eyes. Brooklyn tried to hold in his coughing but fail miserably. The sounds of Amarillo climbing her way to her seat grew louder. She put both her arms on each seat and hopped into her chair. Brooklyn silently hacked on his mistake as he gave a quick look at the girl sitting down.

"What do you think?" She questioned, holding her arms at her new attire. She had on the new gray long sleeve shirt under the stripped green short sleeved one.

"Faaabulous." Brooklyn joked, playing off his incinerating esophagus.

Amarillo smiled again "I'm glad you think so. I figured if blood splatters on me I can just take this shirt off."

Brooklyn shook his head smiling ear to ear "No girl should ever have blood splatter influence their wardrobe."

Amarillo leaned back in her chair laughing "I know right!"

Brooklyn laughed slightly and coughed before he focused on driving. A sudden beep from the display panel caught his attention.

"You have - Approximately - twenty-six miles - left of - gasoline." A computer voice alerted. Amarillo and Brooklyn looked at each other in strange amusement.

"Duuude!" Amarillo shouted.

"That was mad weird." Brooklyn commented before looking at the gas gauge "But, uh, apparently we have. Approximately, twenty-six miles left of gas. Where's the next station?"

"Umm." Amarillo opened the glove compartment and pulled out a map "In Gallup New Mexico. That's in a few miles."

_Oh yes I forgot. We're in the most forgotten state in America. Well most forgotten to everyone that lives by it, ironically enough._

* * *

The Suburban pulled into a gas station on the outside of the town of Gallup. It weaved through the lot and next to a pumping station. Brooklyn and Amarillo both climbed out of the vehicle. The girl stepped around the SUV next to the driver as he put the gas nozzle in the vehicle.

"Ok, let's turn on this pump." Brooklyn relayed to his partner.

"Pump five is it?" She looked back.

"Yeah." As they walked quickly to the front of the store both of them brought their firearms at the ready. Brooklyn opened the door and walked in, holding it for Amarillo. The two scanned the inside of the building for danger, but none was found. The girl stepped behind the counter and pressed a few buttons on the register. Brooklyn ran at the counter and jumped over it.

He whipped around and crouched, looking under the surface "Here."

"What?" Amarillo stepped next to Brooklyn as he handed a handful of shotgun shells to her. She grabbed them and examined the five shells.

"They won't fit." She commented as Brooklyn stood up. The boy then went back under the counter and pulled out a shotgun.

"That works."

"Double barreled sawed-off shotgun. Thought it was illegal to modify these, not to this store owner apparently." New York inspected the firearm.

"Nice thinking. I forgot every store down here has a gun in it."

"Well, when your from the north. That's the one stereotype you pay the most attention to about the south." Brooklyn said as he wheeled around the counter and into the chip aisle. Amarillo followed him, watching him grab arm fulls of snacks. She then began the same process.

"Hey I'll be right back. Going to turn on the pump." Brooklyn informed.

"Ok, take these. I'll get the drinks." Amarillo stuffed the rest of the snacks in his arms. Brooklyn walked to the door and pressed his back on the bar and stepped out. He scanned the surroundings for zombies, something he and Amarillo had grown accustomed to. Opening the back door he stuffed all the food next to the nuke and old clothes that Amarillo wore. Brooklyn moved back to shut the door as something caught his eye. Approaching the clothes that Amarillo changed out of, he noticed red on them. He grabbed the shirt and pulled it out of the jacket. On the inside it was covered in blood, lots of blood. Brooklyn narrowed his eyes as he investigated further. It looked like, dried human blood. Not like the darker zombie blood that gets everywhere. The source seemed to have come from the wearer's left shoulder, Amarillo's left shoulder. Hearing footsteps Brooklyn quickly threw the shirt into the Suburban and began shutting the door.

"Wait, let me put these in there." Amarillo's voice spoke.

Brooklyn turned to see what she had, a disappointed look in his eyes "Where's the soda?"

The girl looked down at various bottles of wine, beer, and vodka. "I have some water right here."

"No, let me go get some stuff that can actually quench one's thirst." Brooklyn assured as he jogged back into the store.

* * *

After bringing an ice chest full of bottles of soda, water, and other nonalcoholic beverages in the back, Brooklyn stepped around to his seat.

"I'll drive." Amarillo nodded as she pulled the gas nozzle from the car. "You could use some sleep."

"Are you - Thank you." Brooklyn thanked, stopping mid sentence of asking if she was sure.

"We both need a decent amount of rest if we are to get where we're going."

"Indeed." Brooklyn turned to walk off but stopped mid rotation "You know, your Texas accent showed in that sentence."

"Are you making fun of me?"

"No, I'm just saying."

"What does it sound like? You Yankee."

"It has that draw. That Texas draw, y'all."

Amarillo held her hand to her mouth as she chuckled "I like how you tied that one together. Anyway, let's go." Brooklyn ran around the Suburban and stepped inside. The new driver climbed into the seat and started the engine. As it shifted to drive and gained in speed a sloshing of ice and soda bottles sounded from the cooler. The two looked back, not used to sound coming from behind them, and somewhat paranoid of what happened the last time they enter the SUV. Amarillo turned to the front as Brooklyn grabbed a bag of chips from the seat behind him. Making himself comfortable he opened the bag and took out a piece and threw it in his mouth.

"Aww, what the hell is this?" Brooklyn questioned in disgust as he crunched away on the chip.

"Hmm? Oh those are pork rinds."

"What the hell is that?!" He asked in even more disgust, chewing carefully.

"It's just the skin of pigs that's fried." Amarillo dismissed. "They're real popular in the south."

Brooklyn swallowed hard and stared down at the bag. "You eat this, willingly?"

"No, I don't. I just grabbed the bag by mistake. Do you not like them?"

"Amarillo! They're the fleshy bits of pigs!"

"Oh come on, it's not **that** bad."

"No, no it's not. It's worse." He rolled up the bag and gently placed it in the back seat, as to not upset the rinds. Rolling back in his seat Brooklyn grabbed his jacket from the floor mat and put it on. Then he balled up next to the door, resting his head on the window seal. It felt like five minutes past as he closed his eyes, he was defiantly sleepy. Almost in an instant Brooklyn fell asleep, tired from driving all night and most of the morning. Amarillo shifted her head left to right as she kept up the speed through the town. She nodded her head and hit her hands on the steering wheel, rocking to her own tune. She looked to Brooklyn to see him scrunched up in his seat, his legs tucked in next to the center console. Amarillo was actually shocked to find him asleep, but it was good for him. She smirked at Brooklyn and looked to the front of the vehicle once more. The town of Gallup looked somewhat small from the main highway. The streets were bare except for blowing trash and the ever present abandoned cars. The sky was a definite fall, almost winter look.. It was either late November or early December, she couldn't tell. Amarillo reached for the radio dial but yanked her fingers back as she looked down to Brooklyn again. She went back to tapping her fingers on the wheel, in her own silent concert. Looking up through the windshield she studied a few patches of clouds in the midday sky, trying to summarize the entertainment she'll have for the next six hours. One she could of sworn looked like a hamster, as the other looked like a swan with a gun. Amarillo brought her blue-green orbs back to the road ahead of her. It was going to be a long drive until her partner woke up. It was the least she could do seeing that Brooklyn had to baby-sit her all the way from Flagstaff. So to say it was just mindless labor would be incorrect. Rolling her left shoulder briefly Amarillo hissed slightly before relaxing it. Almost nonchalantly she lifted her right hand to it and massaged it.

* * *

An immeasurable amount of time seemed to have past. Brooklyn opened his eyes slightly to see a sun prepping to set. He shifted his eyes to see the familiar yet strange face of Amarillo. Her brow was lowered and lips pursed as she kept her attention on the road. The sunlight beamed off her face. In his drowsy state Brooklyn could of sworn that she was a goddess. The orange hue radiated on her skin, the color combination looked like a portal to the heavens had ripped open right in front of her face and she didn't even realize. Amarillo turned her head to look off to the right and saw her partner's waking eyes.

"Decided to wake up?" She grinned.

". . . Maybe." Brooklyn replied as he stretched. "How long have I been asleep?"

"About four hours. We're nearing Albuquerque."

The distant memory of Loony Toons and Bugs Bunny entered his mind, "Don't make a wrong turn."

Amarillo glanced back down at Brooklyn to see him shuffle and attempt to go back to sleep. A few more precious seconds of rest pasted before the silence evaporated.

"Wow, look at the sun. It's so beautiful." The girl tried to coax Brooklyn out of his sleep.

"Yeah, well. I saw the sun set and rise in the upper east side. Quite gorgeous there too." He paused "Somethin' about it. Restored your hope in humanity, you know?"

"Getting sentimental are you?" Amarillo smirked, "You know your New York accent really showed then."

"What? You gotta' be kiddin' me." Brooklyn made his accent more apparent.

"Oh my god. That's hilarious." The girl giggled as she let off the accelerator. "Makes you sound like some tough guy."

"So I'm not a tough guy?"

"No, I didn't mean it that way. Just that it's funny."

"Funny how?" Brooklyn pressed.

"Oh never mind. Just forget about it." After saying that Amarillo slyly grinned and eyed the New Yorker next to her. "Forget'a 'bout it."

Brooklyn shook his head in humor "Forgeta'bout it."

"Forget'a bout it!" Amarillo challenged.

"For-get'a bout'it!"

"For-getta-bout it!"

Fa' getta bout it!" Brooklyn continued to mock himself, "Fa-getta-bout'it!" Right after he yelled it one last time the brakes slammed on and he launched out of his seat. Violently Brooklyn collided with the dashboard, his face smacking square on the top of it.

"Jesus! What the hell was that about?!" He yelled, holding his nose. He tried to shake the pain off, "Were you aware that I didn't have my seatbelt on prior to that unnecessarily sudden stop?!"

Amarillo leaned back in her chair holding in a laugh. She kept her hand over her mouth as she stared at the angry light brown-haired kid next to her.

"You know you look really young for your age." She admitted.

"That was totally random." Brooklyn still held his nose.

"I'm just saying. I like the sorta' blonde bits in your hair. You remind me of that guy on CSI New York. Anyway let's get out and watch the sunset." The girl said before she unbuckled herself and opened the door.

"Who, Carmine Giovinazzo? Anyway, It's called 'distinction'. And you do realize there are still zombies out there? . . Ah whatever. . ." He groaned before opening his door. Walking to the back Brooklyn watched Amarillo take out two bottles of wine from the cooler.

"Here." She handed him one of the wines.

"A whole bottle?!" Brooklyn exclaimed.

"Just take it." Amarillo then walked toward the front of the Suburban. Following behind, New York watched the girl's feet move back and forth. Then she hopped on the hood of the SUV. Brooklyn placed one foot on the bumper then lifted himself up on the front of the vehicle. Amarillo patted the space next to her as she scooted back, resting her upper body on the windshield. Somewhat nervous the boy did the same and laid back. It was quite awkward to be in such a scenario really. Brooklyn could of sworn this was something two happy-go-lucky love birds would do. Not two Zombieland survivors, a once New Yorker and Texan. He shrugged the thought off his mind, maybe they rolled the dice a bit different in Texas.

"We, um, we left our guns in the car." Brooklyn announced, pointing through the windshield.

"Don't worry about it. Just enjoy the moment." Amarillo reassured. The amber tinted orb sank slowly in the sky, gaining ground on the horizon. The clouds near the sun grew in a blue hue. The orange glow fell on the surrounding mountains, causing them to look like giant warm embers needing to be stoked. A purple depth in the sky accentuated the warm colors, shocking the eyes with sharp contrast. A truly wonderful spectacle to behold.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" The girl gasped with amazement. Brooklyn kept silent as he took every aspect of the sight in.

"It's the little things in life that keeps me going." Amarillo said in a low volume. She took the foil off the top of the bottle and twisted something into the cork.

"That and large quantities of alcohol." Brooklyn spoke under his breath.

"Hey. I think we're entitled to certain things since we're the only people left in the world."

"Maybe."

"What? Are you still holding out hope that anyone else is still alive?"

"Apparently you are too. Aren't you headed to Amarillo to find your family?"

"Yea, I guess you're right. . ." Amarillo popped the cork and took a drink of the wine.

"Besides, I've seen other people alive. Haven't you? You probably saw **somebody** else." Brooklyn's mind shot to the image of the old bloody clothes that was in the back of the SUV. He wanted to ask her what it was about.

"I. . . Let's just enjoy the sunset." Amarillo deflected. The two stopped talking and studied the scenery. Brooklyn stared at the bottle in his grasp.

"Why, why is." He stopped himself as he brought his eyes up from the bottle.

"'Why is' what?" The girl questioned. Brooklyn looked into her orbs. She moved her eyes to the left and the right, looking at each one of his.

"Why is there-" Suddenly the wine bottle Amarillo rested on her hip shattered into pieces. The liquid spilled all over her jeans and on the dark metal hood of the car. Then a loud crack echoed in the air.

"Shit! Get down!" Brooklyn yelled as he grabbed Amarillo's arm and pulled her across the hood. He slid off the front of the vehicle. Soon the girl followed, she landed on one foot and spun behind New York. He looked under the bumper of the car, trying to spot the source of the incident.

"What was that?" Amarillo whispered.

"It was a bullet! Someone sniped the bottle out of your hand!" Brooklyn informed.

"How do you know that?"

"Call of Duty teaches you a thing or two. Just stay down." He continued to stare under the vehicle before he sat up and turned to the girl next to him. "I don't see anybody-" Another round penetrated the metal siding of the Suburban just inches behind his head. Spinning his head around he saw the distinct bullet hole, it came from their side of the SUV.

"Shit! Move to the other side of the vehicle! Go! Go!" The two crouched and shuffled to the other side of the black vehicle.

"Did Call of Duty teach you to take cover on the wrong side of the car!?" Amarillo scolded.

"No, just to throw random grenades!" Brooklyn explained in a hissing whisper.

"What are we going to do now?!" She whispered back.

"I think I have a plan."

"You **think**?!"

Brooklyn held his hand out at Amarillo, signaling her to sit still, and opened the backseat door. He kept his body in the leg space, trying to keep under the window. Grabbing his shovel and bag of pork rinds he crept out of the SUV and next to his partner. Brooklyn began dumping the rinds out of the bag.

"What's that going to accomplish?!" The girl questioned.

"See. The bag is mostly white. If I put it over my shovel and wave it above the hood they might know we mean no harm. The white flag is like the universal symbol for surrender." The kid explained.

"And if they don't recognize the symbol?"

"Then they'll probably shoot it and we're thoroughly screwed."

". . . Let's hope for the first case."

"Yeah, let's." Brooklyn cringed as he slowly shimmied to the front left wheel well of the Suburban. Lifting the bag covered shovel slowly it crested the safety of cover. Brooklyn then waved it around gently. Silence befell the lands out side of Albuquerque. About a minute of waving the white 'flag' nothing happened.

"So now what?" Amarillo asked.

"Well, uh, they didn't shoot it. Either they understood it or they're not buying it." Brooklyn relayed.

"I don't like those odds."

"Neither do I. So the only real way to learn which one it is, is to have one of us stand up."

"Are you insane?!"

"I didn't say one of us was going to! I just wanted to let you know!"

"Ok. Just the way you worded it made me think otherwise." Amarillo explained her cause for alarm. Brooklyn shifted his position and laid on the ground. He peered under the SUV, looking for what was going on.

* * *

Ten minutes of waiting past and still no sign of the sniper's decision. Amarillo grew nervous in appearance as time went on. Brooklyn constantly checked under the Suburban. The fading light made it harder to pick out movement from the narrow viewing space. Suddenly a spark of motion caught Brooklyn's attention, it was a person walking toward them.

"Amarillo, I think I see somebody." Brooklyn whispered.

"Is it the guy that was shooting at us?" The girl questioned back.

"Not guy. Girl."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and she's holding a scoped rifle. It's the sniper!"

"Does she look angry?" Amarillo worried.

"No, just cautious. I would be too." Brooklyn nodded. He stood up to a crouch, placing his hands on the side of the vehicle. Amarillo followed suit, although slower in her actions. Peeking his head up, Brooklyn saw the woman grow in size as she walked closer. Finally he stepped out of cover into the highway. The woman stopped in her tracks and brought her rifle down from her shoulder. She aimed it at Brooklyn, weary of the human.

"Who are you?" The woman asked, in a slight South American accent.

"The name's Brooklyn. Who are you?" He answered, his accent apparent too. The woman grinned as she chewed on a stick of chewing gum. She lifted the rifle to her shoulder and stepped confidently forward. She had on a white muscle shirt and form fitting boot cut blue jeans. As she came closer a necklace with a cross over her shirt came into view. The woman looked to be in her mid twenties. Brooklyn kept his hands up to his chest, meaning no harm.

"Name's Havana." The woman smirked, "Who's this Chica?"

"Uuh-" Brooklyn clearly didn't understand.

"I'm Amarillo." The girl Havana was referring to answered.

"Wha?" Brooklyn was still puzzled.

"'Chica' is girl in Spanish." Amarillo informed.

"What's wrong with the white boy here?" Havana shifted her head from Amarillo to Brooklyn.

"Oh he's from up north, New York actually."

The woman smiled wickedly "Oh this'll be fun."

"So. Uh. Why did you shoot at us?!" Brooklyn went back on topic.

"I was playin' around with you two. Making sure you weren't one of them." Havana smirked again.

"You call shooting, with real bullets, at real people, playing around!?! You could of blown my head off! On multiple occasions!"

"You should be glad I didn't." The Latin American woman said as she inspected the setting sun. "We better get out of here before it get's dark."

"What do you mean '**we**'?-" Brooklyn was interrupted.

"We should. Brooklyn you drive, Havana you can sit in the back seat." Amarillo continued voicing the 'plan'.

"Alllright, first humans I've seen in a while and they're friendly." Havana's voice thanked slyly as she walked toward the Suburban.

"Don't I have a say in this?! Isn't it **my** car?!" Brooklyn questioned, feeling left out.

* * *

The SUV traveled through Albuquerque quickly, trying to make up for lost time. Brooklyn frowned as he drove around the abandoned cars that were all over the highway. The Suburban's headlights beamed forward, illuminating the road and several zombies on it. They paid no attention to the car, knowing it wasn't edible. Suddenly the left window behind Brooklyn rolled down. Havana put her feet up on the center console then held her powerful rifle out of the window. Brooklyn examined her cowboy boots with a bizarre look on his face. The boots had tally marks on them for some odd reason. Then a loud bang echoed in the car, shattering Brooklyn's inspection of footwear.

"Jesus!" Brooklyn yelled as he ducked under the steering wheel. A good chunk of a zombie's head tore off on the left side of the Suburban. Havana snatched the cartridge of the spent bullet out of the air.

"Couldn't get a clear shot on that bitch all week." Havana stated.

"So you had to shoot him from inside the car?!" Brooklyn commented, his ears still ringing.

"Here take this. Maybe it'll stop you from being such a pussy." Havana held out the empty cartridge.

Brooklyn turned his head to the gift but kept driving, irritated. Havana retracted her arm and tossed the bullet case out of the window. She then pulled a knife from her belt and slashed a line in her boot.

"What do you, keep track of your kills or something?" The driver couldn't hold his tongue about the strange act.

"Yeah, do you got a problem with it?" Havana defended.

"No. . ." Brooklyn lifted his eyes back to the road "It's just a little weird."

"Haha!" Havana tossed the knife in the air. It rotated several times before she caught it. "First time I heard that."

Brooklyn eyed the huge knife land in the woman's had, quite intimidated "'eah, I can't imagine why. . ."

After a few seconds he decided to keep the conversation going "So why are you headed to Havana? It seems a little, difficult to get to."

"I have my reasons." After Havana said that the inside of the vehicle went silent. Brooklyn turned back in his seat, shrugging off his failed attempt to break the ice. Another night of driving was ahead of the group, and it looked like things weren't going to get anymore lively. Amarillo looked to the stars in the sky, glimmered with a strong pulse, unwavering in their duties. It always wondered Amarillo how, after so much terrible things have happened down here, up there, the stars remained the same. She turned her attention to Brooklyn. He was practically strangling the steering wheel with his hands. Amarillo got the sense that he and Havana didn't get off to a great start. The girl sighed and cast her eyes to her feet, maybe it was a mistake to rush and bring this woman along. But they had wasted enough time, Amarillo needed to get to where she was going.


	6. Waterpark

_It's always great to have friends on a road trip. The more the merrier. Sadly, this was still a road trip, without any friends, and there were more, but it defiantly wasn't merrier. Havana kinda' killed socializing for the most part. Seeing that she was this hard-ass she-rambo that you wouldn't talk to in fear that she'd slit your throat while you slept. It's like sleeping next to a bomb! . . . Wait, never mind. She knew how to kill zombies however, I'll giver her that._

"Head shot. . ." Havana muttered, a cigarette between her lips. She raised her head from the scope of her rifle and turned to Brooklyn, who was standing with his gun held tight. The kid looked down at the woman who laid prone on the cement. Not knowing how to respond he nodded in agreement about the head shot, not having seen it himself. Havana rolled her eyes and went back to looking through her sniper rifle's sight. About a minute passed before another shot cracked from the long ranged firearm. It echoed across the landscape, loud as thunder. The sound was warming for some reason, maybe it was just the adrenaline.

"Zulu down." The woman informed.

"Wait, Zulu?" Brooklyn said against the strange word, not having heard it before.

"Yeah, it's what we call zombies in the Army."

"You were in the Army?"

Havana pulled her dog tags from her jeans pocket and shook them in the air "Still am."

"That would explain why you have that sniper rifle." Brooklyn added.

"Correct." The woman said as she sat up from her rifle and draped her legs over the curb. They had stopped near Tucumcari New Mexico, at a truck stop. Not a fancy place but not a run down one either, you take what comes to you under these circumstances. Amarillo walked from the parked Suburban and past the two on the sidewalk.

"Ok guys. Be out in a little bit. Who's going next?" She asked, referring to the showers a few feet behind Havana.

"I will." Havana answered.

"Alright." Amarillo nodded before she walked to the entrance of the shower rooms. Brooklyn sat on the curb next to Havana, knowing that he had a long wait in front of him before he could scrub the scum off of his body and mind.

"So what branch of the Army do you serve in?" He questioned, continuing their conversation.

"Rangers. I'm a designated marksman, best in my regiment. Can shoot a bottle cap a mile out." Havana boasted.

"That would explain your mad skills."

"Yeah. Where did you get that M16?"

"Oh, this?" Brooklyn lifted up the rifle "Got this from inside a National Guard APC."

"Figured you found it. You're too wimpy to be in the military."

Brooklyn lowered the rifle slightly, sighing "Gee, thanks."

"Let me see that." Havana lifted her hand at the assault rifle. Brooklyn handed the woman the weapon. She examined both sides of the firearm then shouldered it, aiming down the sights.

"Too short of a distance for my taste. But you chose well in grabbing this thing." She handed back the firearm.

"I know a few things about-" Brooklyn went silent, having heard something move around behind him. He spun around to a crouch to see a zombie huffing out from the side of the shower building. He flipped the safety off, aimed, and fired a quick burst into the zombie. It groaned and fell to the ground, face first in a rather off-putting mess of unkempt grass and shrubbery.

"Humph, maybe you do got what it takes. . ." Havana smirked, impressed by the kids reaction time.

"That's a little Zombieland etiquette for you. Never sneak up behind someone uninvited." Brooklyn taunted the dead, undead. More snorts came from behind the building. Brooklyn stepped to the left to see several zombies walking from the truck stop center.

"We got more!" He shouted to his ally. The woman hoped up from the curb and grabbed her sniper rifle. Three trucker-zombies charged at Brooklyn. He took off in the opposite direction of the flesh eating group. As the zombies ran past, Havana swung the stock of her sniper rifle and nailed one right in the chin. It fell backwards, it's trucker hat flew off and a long string of blood shot out of it's mouth. Havana picked up the blunt end of her rifle and ran after Brooklyn.

"Why do you guys always run after me!" Brooklyn yelled at the two trucker's blazing a trail after him. Havana lifted her rifle and aimed for the zombie on the left. She pulled the trigger and the left leg of the targeted zombie blew off. The happily severed limb tumbled forward, faster than the runner that previously wore it. Then the new amputee collapsed to the ground, his arms launching forward at a last ditch effort to acquire Brooklyn. The still active bullet ricocheted inches from Brooklyn's foot on it's current trajectory. He reacted by yanking his left foot up and hoping on his right leg but fell over at his current speed. The last zombie continued forward at the boy.

"Ah shit!" Brooklyn yelled as he ripped the assault rifle forward and held the trigger. The zombie-trucker jerked as bullets hit his torso and abdomen. The clip emptied and the gun stopped firing. The undead fell forward and landed on top of Brooklyn.

"Aww, come on!" He cringed as the bloody, smell zombie rested on him. Pulling his hand out from under the body Brooklyn pushed it's shoulder and rolled the dead zombie off of him.

"Son - of - a - bitch. . ." He grumbled as he looked down at all the blood on his jacket. Havana held out her hand to aid Brooklyn. He grabbed the helping hand and lifted to his feet.

"I guess you shower with your clothes on." The woman shrugged.

"Yeah. . . Oh crap!" Brooklyn shouted as he pointed at a zombie walking into the shower rooms. Havana jogged after the undead. She stepped up on the curb and held her left hand out as she went in after the zombie. She grabbed the back of the trucker's collar and dragged him by his heels out of the building. Emerging outside she tossed the zombie to the ground and stuffed the barrel of her sniper rifle in it's mouth. Pulling the trigger brain matter splattered all over the curb as it's head imploded.

"That's four." She smirked at her work.

"Nice- Oh!" Brooklyn scrambled yet again for words as he saw the zombie with the missing leg crawling at him. New York pulled the always handy shovel from his back and formulated an idea. He settled into a golfing stance as the head of the zombie drew closer.

"Brooklyn, setting up for a drive at the eighteenth. Can he make it on the green. . ." Brooklyn whispered to himself as he held the shovel like a golf club. "And here's the swing. . ."

He turned his body as he lifted the spade over his head. Then he quickly swung it in a classic golf swing. The flat end struck the zombie in the side of the head, a loud panging sound echoed through the air.

"It's going. . . Going. . . It's-It's in the hole! It's in the hole!" Brooklyn shouted as he did a Tiger Woods style fist pump. He continued to hold his arms up in triumph.

"cabrito loco. . ." Havana muttered as she shook her head at Brooklyn. The boy then dropped the digging end on the asphalt and scrapped it on the ground. Sparks erupted from the friction before he took it off the pavement. The metal sung as he held it forward. It looked like some gesture that should have done with a sword, not a standardized, mundane shovel. After the somewhat questionable showboating, the boy stepped over to his last know seat. Havana stared at him, perplexed.

Brooklyn shrugged at her "What?"

* * *

Brooklyn stepped out of the showering building, rubbing his hair with a white towel. He had on his jeans and plain white shirt, his bloody jacket was left outside the doorway, in a pile of brown leather. He cast his eyes to the sky to see dark clouds looming overhead.

"Is it about to rain?" He asked the two females on the curb as he bent down to snatch his jacket.

"Yeah, we heard thunder a little while ago." Amarillo mentioned as she turned to look at Brooklyn.

"This will be an interesting drive. Did you two fill up the gas tank?"

"And restocked on what food we could find." Havana responded.

"Nice. You two ready to roll?"

"Always ready." The two said simultaneously.

Brooklyn paused at the coincidental event "That was weird. . . Alrighty then."

Amarillo stood up as Brooklyn jogged past her "Oh hey. I got you this, so you could, you know. Stay warm." She tossed a black hoodie at the underdressed for the weather boy.

"Oh, sweet thanks." Brooklyn smiled as he caught the hoodie and slipped an arm into one of the cloth tubes.

"No problem." The girl replied as the group moved to the vehicle.

"Hey, Brooklyn, I'll take this one." Havana ran next to the previous driver.

"Ok." He replied as he tossed the woman the keys. She caught them and ran to the Suburban's driver side door. Brooklyn stepped to the door behind Havana's and opened it. He looked back to Amarillo, who was heading toward the same door, and kindly handed her the opening.

She smiled "Why thank you."

"Don't mention it." He beamed back. Suddenly his vision blurred. Shaking his head he tried to jar the fog from his sight. He looked up to see Amarillo's legs crawl into the seat. He recalled her smile and shook his head again before cautiously walking to the other side of the SUV. Brooklyn swung the door open and climbed into the back seat, next to a few bags of chips. He then looked at the driver.

"I figured you wanted to have your gun next to you, like, like, yeah like that." Brooklyn held his hand at Havana placing her sniper rifle in the front seat.

"I didn't even have to order you out of the seat, hmm." Havana nodded in content.

"Well, the way you basically caress that thing when your back here I, thought. . . Ok, I'll shut up now. . . Sorry." He grew silent as the woman gave him a death stare. The air inside grew warm, at least to Brooklyn. Almost a minute had past before Havana turned her attention to the helm of the Suburban. After the near death social experience Brooklyn leaned back in his seat. The vehicle started with a brief stutter and accelerated forward. The occupants inside could now let down they're guard and relax.

* * *

About ten minutes past as scenery moved by the windows. Rain drops began to streak along the glass, like small etches in the transparent sheet itself. Darker clouds hovered under the lighter ones as Brooklyn looked into the covered sky. It was an ominous sight to see. It looked like smog under the cloud cover, drifting away in the wind. However that wasn't the case, provided there were no factories still working to produce smog. Brooklyn turned his head forward then to the girl next to him. She was looking the same way as she gazed into the grey blanket over them. Her right hand gently sat in her lap as the other pressed against the window.

"Looks like it's really going to storm." Brooklyn started the conversation off.

"Yeah." Amarillo replied.

"What are you looking at?"

"The clouds. It's been so long since I've seen rain."

"Really?"

"Yea, when was the last time you saw it?"

"I don't pay much attention to it really. I get sort of busy trying to stay alive and all." He excused himself from the question, not recalling when he last saw water fall from the atmosphere.

"I like it personally, so I try to keep track of it when I do realize it's happening. Oh, there we go." Amarillo's interest sparked as a rain sheet pelted the windshield. Havana swiftly turned on the headlights and windshield wipers, paying no attention to the conversation behind her. The inside temperature of the SUV dropped, due in part to the cold rain enveloping its exterior.

"This rain storm is actually pretty damn intense." Brooklyn said, slightly nervous with his hand clenched on the light grey leather cushion.

"What? are you scared of the rain?"

"No, it's just now, zombies can be concealed in it. That's pretty scary."

"We're in a car, we'll be fine. Just forget about it." Amarillo then smirked at her words.

Brooklyn held a pointed finger out "No, no. The last time we did that. Things didn't end so well."

"Forget'a bout it."

"Amarillo, I'd rather not."

"Fa'getta'bout it."

"I **am **going to forget about it and not do it, because-"

"Fa'getta-" She was suddenly interrupted by the Suburban screeching to a halt. Brooklyn rocked forward but braced his arm on the seat in front of him.

"See! You see! I told you! I - Told - You! I just about got damaged in the face again!"

"Wait, why are we stopping?" Amarillo asked Havana.

"I can't see a damn thing, and there's something in front of us." The woman replied. Brooklyn slid to the middle seat and leaned in between the two chairs.

"It might be another dead car, can we go around?" He suggested.

"I have to first know what it is before I start trying to pass it. Who knows if there isn't a fifteen foot drop on either side." As soon as Havana said that a zombie jumped on the hood, it's face planted itself on the front window followed by four more. More soggy zombies ran into and over the hood.

"Oh shit! Floor it!" Brooklyn yelled, pointing forward. The tires squealed on the wet road as Havana pressed down the accelerator. The engine revved with an intimidating force as the pedal hit the floor mat. More zombies surrounded the vehicle, smacking their faces against the glass. The SUV then caught traction and exploded forward. The zombies that were up front were plowed over by the hulking black mass of moving machinery. A few leftover zombies clung onto the side of the Suburban.

"We need to shake them off!" Amarillo shouted over the roaring engine.

"I'm tryin'! Damn, these bastards are holding on tight!" Havana answered back.

"We have to deal with these guys Amarillo! Roll down your window and knock em' off!" Brooklyn exclaimed as he pressed the switch to roll his window down. As it came halfway down the zombie right over the window screamed in.

"No free rides!" Brooklyn roared back at the zombie as he grabbed the back of it's head with both his hands and rammed it's face into the top of his forehead. It let out a guttural groan and fell off the door. Brooklyn turned to Amarillo and grabbed the sawed-off shotgun from her boot and held it out the window. He then leaned out the opening with his left hand latched on the ceiling handle. His face stung as water blasted it. Brooklyn squinted, trying to see through the hectic mist. He turned to the back of the SUV and aimed at the undead hanging onto the roof bars. A quick blast from the handheld shotgun caused the zombie to let go and tumble endlessly on the road. As it disappeared in the rain Brooklyn swung his arm to the zombie up front, on the side of the hood. He pulled the trigger and the buck shot blasted into the blooded male. It's head jerked back then it's body went limp off the side of the Suburban. The zombie landed on the ground and flew under the vehicle before being run over by the rear tire. The SUV bounced up in the air then back down. Brooklyn growled as the window seal slammed into his side. He slipped back into the moving car and sat down. Using the seat in the normal, sane manner, he looked around the interior of the car.

"Were are the shells for this thing?" Brooklyn questioned in haste, but no answer. With the only other option left he dug into the bags on the floor. Looking frantically he opened a plastic bag with ammunition inside. Grabbing one of the shotgun shells Brooklyn shoved it into the barrel. It wouldn't go in so he tried again, this time with more force. Still it wouldn't fit into place.

"Damn it! Where are the **real** shells for this thing?!" Still no response. Brooklyn looked to Amarillo to see her leaning out of the window, firing at the zombie on her side of the moving car. The flesh craving freeloader disappeared as it was blasted off the car. The girl came back into the safety of the SUV.

"There's still one on the roof!" Amarillo relayed to Brooklyn.

"That's great! But I don't have a working gun!"

"Here, use this." Havana held her sniper rifle to Brooklyn. He stared at it for a moment, unworthy of such power, then grabbed it. He held it out the window first and leaned his body out. Amarillo grabbed onto his legs as Brooklyn used both of his hands to hold the gun. Adjusting so the barrel pointed right at the zombie Brooklyn shouldered the firearm. Not looking forward to the amount of hurt he would feel in this position, firing this high powered firearm. A monstrous blast exploded from the rifle. The zombie flew off the top of the vehicle almost instantly. Brooklyn wasn't ready for the kickback and the gun jerked backward before it flew out of his hands. It tumbled backward before it fell on the road and disappeared, forever. Brooklyn stared back at the passing road, there went Havana's beloved. Water doused the back of his head as he continued to be in awe of what just transpired. His mouth was open wide as he gave the thousand yard stare at the road behind the Suburban. Only the wind passing his ears was heard. . . And the sound effects of the subsequent beating that would ensue.

"Oh, that's bad." Was all Brooklyn could say as he hung out of the window. Suddenly he felt hands clawing at his pants, then he ripped back into the SUV. He was lifted through the window. Aiding in his rescue Brooklyn lent his arms to pushing off the door. Twisting back into his seat he rolled up the window. Cold liquid dripped off his hair and down his face. His new hoodie looked darker than before, due to it being soaked. Amarillo still grasped a hand full of Brooklyn's jeans as she looked at him.

"Is everything ok?" She noticed the distressed look on his face. He kept his eyes wide at the girl before looking to the driver. Brooklyn couldn't see Havana, but Havana's hand instead, stretched out.

"Where's my rifle?" She questioned, wanting her precious.

"About a half a mile back." Brooklyn blurted out. No words were spoken between the two, instead the SUV turned sharply. Practically lifting on it's two right wheels from the violent command of the steering column. Brooklyn's head slammed into the glass next to him, it shattered to a million pieces from the impact. Amarillo slid on her bum into the head trauma victim next to her. The Suburban rested back on four wheels as it gained in speed, the driver obviously in a fury of rage. Reeling in his pain, Brooklyn held the side of his head but he had no time to recover. Instead, he was startled to full alertness from the blazing speed of the vehicle. He looked to Amarillo who was laying as flat as possible on him, her legs twisted upon each other in fear. Finally the large black bullet slammed on the brakes. Both passengers in the back seat flew forward into the blockade of seats and cup holders. The SUV hopped up and down as the antilock system activated. It jumped four times before everything went still.

"Uugh. . . Ooh. . ." Brooklyn moaned as he held his head.

"Eerr, Ah-ack!" Amarillo yelled as she held her left shoulder and chest. Luckily for the two, they made it back in their seats after being thrown around like human dice in a furious game of Yahtzee. The driver jumped out of the front upon kicking the door open. The only sound to be heard was rain drops gently hitting the roof.

"Oow. . . I think, I think seatbelts are in order from here on out. . ." Brooklyn groaned "Are you alright?"

"Eerm!" Amarillo growled through her clenched teeth.

"Wha? Hold on, stay still." Brooklyn sat up and grabbed the girl next to him and sat her up "Holy shit, you're bleeding!"

"Eeh." Texas' eyes rolled around in her head.

"Hey, hey! Snap out of it!" He slapped her cheek several times "Hey!"

"I'm, ok. . . Aah!"

"Stay still, you're shoulder's injured."

"Tell me something I don't know. . ."

"Uh, well, uh. Havana hopped out of the car, and, there are zombies right out there I would imagine, and-"

"Brooklyn! You're head is bleeding!" Amarillo yelled as she saw a large amount of blood coming down in between the middle of his eyebrow to his ear. He placed a hand on the warm side of his face. Brooklyn studied his palm that was covered in red liquid.

"Oh my god. . ." He gasped. As he said that he felt cold strike his back, his door had been opened. A hand latched on his hood and yanked him out of the SUV. Brooklyn flew backwards and landed on his back in a puddle of water.

"Aaww haw." He grumbled as his back ached. He opened his eyes and saw Havana walking over to him. His breath hastened and he inched backwards away from the enraged Latina.

"Wait, wait!" He tossed words at Havana. She wasn't buying it. "Don't do this."

"You messed up big. . ." Havana sneered. She reached down and picked the boy up from the ground.

"Eer. Havana, let's not blow this out of proportion-" Brooklyn managed to get out before a punch struck his face. The grasp loosened from his collar and he fell back to the ground. His shoulder landed in yet another cold puddle of rain. He could hear his own heart beat as he let out yelps of pain. Brooklyn eyed the rain drops colliding with the ground, it was quite strange from this angle. The woman drew closer yet again as his vision blurred in and out of focus, it was only going to get worse from here.

"C'mon. Stand back up!" Havana taunted.

"emm. . . I was never standing to begin with." Brooklyn retorted, in his signature style. He then struggled to his feet, being arrogant as he was. "You know, you can hit hard, but I can run fast. I don't think you can catch me."

Havana charged and swung a fist back before launching it across the smartass kid's face. "Looks like I caught you."

Brooklyn twisted to the direction of the punch and fell to the ground "Aagh. . . I didn't hear the race pistol go off, that was a cheap one."

Havana grew in anger as Brooklyn kept the verbal taunts going. She loomed over the boy and thought of what she was going to do next. As the woman lifted up her foot Amarillo tossed herself over Brooklyn.

"Stop! He's had enough!" She screamed at the attacker. Havana paused and let her leg down. "How could you do this!?"

"Bitch lost my gun." Havana remarked to the question.

"Over a stupid piece of metal?! He's just going to keep taunting you till you kill him!" Amarillo continued to speak sense into the woman's mind.

Brooklyn looked over Amarillo's shielding body "No, I wasn't planning on taking it **that** far." He admitted, a finger held up. Havana looked to the ground then after a few moments turned around and walked away. The powerful anger that radiated from her being could still be felt by the two on the ground as Havana drew further and further away.

* * *

A few minutes in the rain Brooklyn let his neck go slack and he rested his head on the ground. Drops of water hit his eyes and mouth. The water granted a nice reprieve from the taste of blood on his tongue. Amarillo turned to the boy's face and looked into his eyes.

"Oh my god, are you alright?" She asked as she placed her hands on his head, her voice dripping with frantic concern.

"Ugh. . . So far so good. . ." He smirked. Amarillo wiped Brooklyn's lips with her thumb, whisking away the blood. Her hair was soaked as well, some dangled in a collective strand over Brooklyn's chin, like a ancient jungle vine.

"What were you thinking?!"

"To be honest, not a whole lot. Especially after that Randy Couture quality right hook."

"You're still cracking jokes?"

"Would you rather me be crying my eyes out?"

She looked away, to the road they came from "No. . . Let's get you back into the car."

She attempted to lift Brooklyn to his feet but he stopped her "What about you're shoulder?" He placed his hand near the girl's neck, over the blood on her shirt.

"It's fine. I fixed it a minute ago. What's hurt now is you."

"Alright, if you say so." Brooklyn reluctantly let go of the subject. With the help Amarillo offered he stood to his feet. Only briefly he looked to his left and saw a familiar colored piece of metal. Limping over he guided himself and the girl to it. Bending down he picked up the object and examined it.

"It slid all the way to this side of the road? Huh. It's a little scratched up but no worse for wear." Brooklyn commented.

* * *

They had cleared a space in the back of the Suburban to place Brooklyn for treatment. Amarillo laid next to the wounded kid, wiping the side of his head with a cloth. She had taken off the shirt over her long sleeve one to let it dry. Brooklyn had his hoodie off and next to the window to dry as well. Both had taken off their shoes and socks, which were damp beyond all comparison.

"So how are you feeling now?" Amarillo question, still patting the moist cloth on Brooklyn's face.

"Better." He smirked.

"Good. Lucky for you I found that bottle of aspirin back at the gas station."

"Thank you for thinking ahead. Whether it was for injuries or drunken headaches."

Amarillo gasped before gently pushing on Brooklyn's chest "Not funny." She kidded in a smile. Both smiled before breaking eye contact. The girl gently pressed the rag on New York's cut lip. It tingled a little to Brooklyn, until it hurt with a blunt, sore pain.

"Ouch." He said in reaction.

"What? Out of all your injuries this hurts the most?" Amarillo smiled as if it were a joke.

"Maybe." Brooklyn stared into his caretaker's eyes. She stared back, studying something in his eyes that Brooklyn himself couldn't understand. The moment lasted for what could of easily passed for an eternity between the two. Both simultaneously looked away from each other, seemingly frightened by something.

"Well, um, do you want some chips?" Amarillo hurriedly asked.

"No, uh, no. No I'm good, thank you." Brooklyn stumbled through the sentence.

Havana kept her position as driver. It gave her time to think about what she had just done. The clouds had cleared and it was slightly sunny outside. Cactus strewn about an arid plain stood on each side of the road. Yup, they were defiantly on their way to entering Texas.

_Now that we had settled everything inside the car, it was time to worry about what was outside. Damaged roads, psychotic survivors, dormant volcanoes, wild bears. Oh, and zombies._


	7. This hit harder

_Texas, the lone star state. It was bigger than I thought, way bigger. A lot of nothing in any given direction, and there's cactus __**everywhere**__. I've never seen such a diabolical plant in such abundance in my life. Amarillo turned into a giddy school girl the second we entered the state. I'm glad for her, she's so close to her goal, so close to some sort of happiness that doesn't involve arterial spray or copious amounts of liquor. But besides that, besides finding family, there's really nothing to __**get**__ giddy about._

"We're about twenty miles from Amarillo, uh, Amarillo." Brooklyn announced, as he read the road sign passing the right of his vision. The girl kept silent, not replying, her eyes fixated on familiar turf and vegetation. Havana was in the front seat next to Brooklyn. Needless to say not a whole lot of words were spoken between the two. Not since that 'little' incident a few hours ago. It actually started to snow outside, an oddity to some degree. Brooklyn thought snow was a myth down here but it seemed to be commonplace to Amarillo. The midmorning light made the foliage seem browner than it really was. It appeared brittle and dry, all it needed was a firm foot of a wondering hand to snap it. Another road sign past over the Suburban. The large metal sheet was ripped in half by some unknown force. The driver eyed the side of the road to see an airplane wing on the ground. A look of disbelief swept over his face. The wing looked no worse for wear, besides lacking the entire plane body it was suppose to be fastened on. Bringing his eyes forward Brooklyn spotted the rest of the air bus.

"Whoa. What happened here." He said in awe. The massive fuselage stretched over the width of the road as parts of it scattered everywhere. The dirt that the belly of the beast buried into was charred black. The boy brought the SUV off the highway and into the grass. The vehicle slowed down as it weaved through the field of debris. Everyone in the car looked into the plane as an opening exposed itself. The interior was burnt and utterly gutted, oxygen masks hung from the ceiling as well as wires and chunks of plastic, the passenger's never stood a chance. Unconsciously maneuvering the Suburban back onto the road Brooklyn brought his optics to the on coming road.

"Holy shit. . ." He gasped. Lines upon lines of abandon cars extended as far as the eye could see. The entire road, oncoming and outgoing lanes, were taken up by cars leaving the city.

"Look's like they were trying to evacuate the city." Amarillo spoke.

"Civvies couldn't make it through. They were doomed." Havana added.

Brooklyn kept quite about the now relics from the past and remained on the task at hand "Looks like we have to take the shoulder all the way down."

They continued forward, empty car after empty car passed by the left windows. A disturbing, hollow feeling crept inside the three watching the vehicles pass. It became eerily obvious that everyone that was stopped here never made it out alive. Brooklyn clenched the steering wheel as he kept the vehicle straight on the soggy grass.

"So, what were you two's cars prior to the outbreak?" New York brought everyone's thoughts off the sight next to them. In hindsight it seemed disrespectful, having to do with cars and all.

"Chevy Silverado. It was black with an American flag sticker on the top left corner of the rear window. You saw it when you first met me." Amarillo recalled fondly.

"That was you're truck? Huh, wasn't it a little big? For just a-um-you? Uh never mind. . . And you Havana?" Brooklyn treated his sentence as if he treaded over thin ice.

"Nineteen-sixty-nine Camaro SS. It was gray with two black stripes going from front to back." Havana smirked.

"Wow. What happened to it?"

"Boyfriend took it."

"Did you get it back?"

"No, he became a zombie and drove it off a cliff."

"Oh. . . Well, then. . . Okay. . ."

"What about you? What did you have?" Amarillo questioned back.

"A Toyota Celica, Ford F-150 combo. Very nice." Brooklyn joked.

"Seriously. What did you have?" Amarillo pressed.

"A Celica, it was black. Not as interesting as the Toyota Celica, Ford F-150 combo, mind you." The kid then looked farther down the road. "Hey, wait a sec. I got an idea."

"Uh oh. What is it?" The girl in the back seat asked nervously.

"Who want's to bust some zombie heads? We can get up on the roof and shoot them from up there."

"What?! What's that going to accomplish?"

"Pass the time."

"Might as well, I'll drive." Havana egged on.

"The obsession with killing things in this group is disturbing. . ." Amarillo said under her breath.

* * *

Brooklyn situated himself over the left passenger window, legs dangling off the side. Amarillo sat next to him, her legs over the edge as well. Holding his M16 the boy looked to the oncoming road.

"So what am I suppose to use? This shotgun's not going to reach them." Amarillo looked down at her firearm.

"We could switch off if you want-"

Havana interrupted Brooklyn "I found something down here." Her muffled voice informed through the hole next to the girl.

"What is it?" Amarillo questioned as a pistol was tossed out of the sun roof "Oh!" She yelped before catching it.

"Nice. Here comes this group." New York nodded his head at the direction of the zombies. He shouldered his weapon and aimed. Waiting for them to draw closer he saw Amarillo slide the clip out of the pistol, check the ammo in it, and slam it back in before cocking the hammer. It was odd to see her do that. The action was something a professional would do, not someone like Amarillo. Shrugging off the notion Brooklyn brought an undead into his sights. He fired a shot, tagging the female zombie in the left shoulder. He fired again, this time downing it. The rotting body spun one full rotation before meeting the pavement. Amarillo pointed the handgun at the other and fired. The first shot missed but the other one caught the tall zombie-man in the gut.

"Ouch, your nasty with that thing." Brooklyn commented.

"I'm nasty with other things too." The girl smirked.

"Is that a threat?"

"No, it's a fact."

"Oh, really. Wait-" He targeted a zombie standing out from a gap in traffic and nailed it in the head.

"Eat it!" The kid yelled as his mark fell out of sight. Amarillo spotted two more on the side of the road, closer to the Suburban, and opened fire. Two bullets missed but two hit the left zombie in the chest, while the other bullet nicked the right one's head.

"Ow, a bit off." Brooklyn teased.

"Hey! It's difficult with this thing! Do you want to try it?"

"Sure, let's swap." The two exchanged guns, he handed the girl his rifle with his left hand while grabbing the pistol with his right "Better?"

"Much. Now let's cap some more bitches." Amarillo smirked.

"Now that's the spirit! Look, here's some more." Brooklyn held the pistol at the first of the scattered zombies. Before he could really aim, the girl shouldered Brooklyn's M16 and fired short-controlled bursts into the three visible zombies.

New York lowered the pistol and looked at Amarillo in an extremely confused way "Jesus. Where was **that** when we needed it?!"

Amarillo laughed, holding her hand to her mouth "You weren't watching."

"But-wha-but-uh-how?!"

"Don't worry about it, here comes some more. I'll let you have them."

"Gee thanks, way to rub it in." Brooklyn jokingly sighed. Amarillo giggled as she watched him prepare to shoot. He lifted the pistol again, aimed, and fired. The first bullet missed but the second hit a male zombie in the throat. The next undead got nothing but a click of the trigger.

"Aw man, out of ammo." He said in a bummed tone.

Amarillo turned and leaned close to the sun roof "Do you have any pistol rounds down there?"

"Yeah, here's a clip and something special." Havana grinned as she handed up the items. The girl turned and held the clip to Brooklyn. He took it and ejected the previous clip then slid in the new one.

"What is that?" He questioned. Amarillo showed him the spherical object "What? is that. . . A grenade!?"

"I think so."

Brooklyn looked down at the SUV "Who the hell's car did we steal?!"

"I don't know. It was just in the glove compartment." The girl shrugged, not knowing anymore than the boy next to her. "Here take it."

"Ok, let's see what this thing can do." He looked out upon the road "I want to get a big group with this."

* * *

Having not found a substantial group of zombies yet, Brooklyn kept to his pistol. After twenty minutes on the roof a break paused, no undead within viewing distance. They set down their weapons and took a breather from shooting. Brooklyn finished a soda and threw the bottle to the slow moving ground. He chewed on the remaining straw. Probably not the manliest way to drink a soda, but he liked it that way.

"So why are you keeping that thing in the tarp with us? What is it?" Amarillo asked. However softly she put it, those words were a threat to Brooklyn's goal.

He paused for a second, formulating what to say "It's my old things, nothing big, just keepsakes and what not."

"Really? I didn't know you were the type to hold onto stuff like that."

"There's a lot you don't know. Most of it boring and meaningless."

"Come on, it can't be all boring."

"Yes it is. Nothing big happened back then. Absolutely nothing."

"You lived in New York **and **Los Angeles. I think you just don't want to tell me." Amarillo continued to pry.

"No, I'm sorry, I got jack. If you wanted to talk to someone that's lived in both cities and had action randomly happen around them, I'm the wrong person." Brooklyn deflected the barrage.

"But you're the only person. Left alive and that I know of, ever."

"That's flattering but I'm tellin' ya'. I got nothing."

"Hmm." The girl hummed before going silent. Brooklyn looked behind the Suburban, still chewing on the straw. Two minutes past as the SUV continued at it's moderate pace on the shoulder of the road. Snow flakes floated gently down to the ground. A couple landed on Brooklyn's legs and shoes. They were small but big enough to see, nothing like up north. A cold sting sparked in Brooklyn's nose every time he inhaled. The air smelled of wet dead grass and tree bark. As the boy sank into a relaxing state he kicked his right foot up every now and again, tapping on the window. Suddenly he felt tension on his straw, the one he was still chewing. Brooklyn quickly shifted his eyes to see Amarillo's face next to his, in very close proximity. His heart began to race as she looked back at him. He stopped chewing his end of the straw and simple held it between his teeth. Amarillo did the same to the other end as the moment lasted for several seconds. Brooklyn grew nervous as time went on. His vision began to blur, like it did back in Tucumcari, something he has never experienced. Amarillo let go of the straw and gently pulled it out of Brooklyn's mouth.

"Let's make that life a little less boring." She whispered as she pushed Brooklyn back.

"I, uh-I-Okay. . ." Brooklyn leaned back, extremely nervous by this point. Amarillo pressed against New York, almost parallel to the roof. His heart began to beat faster that he could count, and he could count pretty fast. She drew closer to him, in slow motion.

"Erm, Ouch. Hold on, hold on, I'm laying on the grenade, ow." Brooklyn winced as he leaned up and pulled the frag out of his hoodie pocket. Not even having time to safely place the explosive somewhere Amarillo laid on him and lowered her face closer to his. Brooklyn's ears began to ring for some reason as this, event, unfolded. Amarillo's lips were now within inches of his. He though about saying something, like how he's never **actually** done this before or that he wasn't handed the 'manual of kissing' but he kept silent. His left foot kicked up several times, a mixture of nervousness, fear, and adrenaline. Now with in milliseconds of impact, Amarillo's lips kept moving toward his. Suddenly something grasped hard onto his ankle. Brooklyn opened his eyes wide as he felt his leg being yanked. He pushed Amarillo off of him and slid off the roof.

"Whoa!" He yelled as he was ripped off the Suburban. Quickly he grabbed the metal rack on the top of the SUV. He looked down to see a large zombie holding onto his lower leg. Blood drizzled out of the zombie's mouth and it opened it's nasty mouth wide, about to bite into Brooklyn's leg.

"Err!" He strained to hold onto the bar. The kid pulled his leg up wildly, trying to avoid becoming infected with all his essence. Lifting the grenade that was still in his right hand, he brought it to his mouth. Brooklyn pulled the pin with his teeth and released the hand leaver. He stuffed the fragmentation device into the zombie's gapping mouth. Stunned the over weight zombie looked up at Brooklyn. With this opportunity New York thrashed his ankle out of the zombie's grasp.

"You fat-ass prick!" Brooklyn yelled as he kicked with his right foot, nailing the undead in the forehead. The zombie's head jerked back, then stumbled backward away from the SUV. It mindlessly swatted it's hands in front of it's mouth before the grenade blew up. A thick pink mist scattered everywhere, nothing over the size of a small cat splattered to the ground.

"Fu. . .Fuck. . ." Brooklyn gasped in over exhaustion as he clung onto the rail, his eyes darting around. He let go and landed on his feet. With haste he opened the passenger door and jumped inside.

* * *

"Ooh. Ho." Brooklyn took deep breaths as he shook off what just happened. He rocked back and forth as he folded his arms into his chest.

"Are you alright?" Havana asked as she looked through the rearview mirror.

"I think I might just throw up. . . Oh god." He said before putting his hands on his face. Thoughts rushed through Brooklyn's mind, all of it overwhelming. Going from an innocent, potentially sensual moment to a life threatening, gore filled one was no easy task.

"Here, drink some of this." The driver handed the kid a canned drink. Brooklyn grabbed it and took a long drink.

He made a disgusted look and opened his mouth "What the hell is this?"

"I don't know, it's what ever you left up here. But it took your mind off of that attack didn't it?"

"Aw, that's sick." Brooklyn cringed as he rolled down the window and tossed the concoction out of the car. Amarillo stepped down from the roof, placing her feet on the center console. She hopped down and into the front seat, placing the firearms in the leg space below.

"Is everything ok?" She asked Brooklyn, who was still quite shaken up from what just happened.

"I'll be alright. I-I'm sorry." Was all the boy could think of to say.

"No-it's alright. . . What do you need?"

"Just some time alone. For a second." His voice shaking with shock.

"Ok, whatever you need." Amarillo accepted, her voice caring and calm.

* * *

Another twenty-five minutes passed, the group neared Amarillo's house. Her house wasn't exactly in Amarillo but on the outskirts around it, down a country road. As the SUV pulled into a long driveway of a ranch type property Amarillo lifted in her seat. Parking a few yards in front of the house Havana turned off the engine and the girl riding shotgun jumped out of the vehicle. Brooklyn quickly followed, stepping quickly out of his side of the Suburban.

"Dad! Dad! Are you there?! It's me! Amber!" Amarillo yelled while running to the steps of her house. Brooklyn froze in thought as he heard Amarillo's real name.

_It was quite a surprise to know her real name, let alone anybodies real name. "Amber". . . It's a pretty name, I'll admit. It's also kinda' funny that both her real and Zombieland name starts with an 'A'. Thought I'd bring that up._

The girl slammed her fist on the door over and over trying to get an answer. Brooklyn jogged up the steps, Havana a step behind.

"Dad, Eric!" Amarillo continued to shout through the door. Brooklyn eyed the ceiling of the patio and were it connected with the house, his gun held at chest level. He looked down and through the window.

"Hey, Amarillo, right here. . ." He nudged the girl. She looked into the glass square, there was a note taped on it from the inside.

"Oh my god." The girl gasped. "They've gone to the Big Texan."

"What? What's that?" Brooklyn questioned, confused by the name.

"It's a restaurant, a popular tourist attraction."

"People actually visit up here?"

"We need to go there! It's just through the city down I-forty."

"That's the road we were just on. Ok let's move." Havana suggested. The group ran back to the SUV, there was no telling how long the note had been there, so time was of the essence.

* * *

Driving at a stead eighty-five miles an hour down the interstate the Suburban turned through clumps of destroyed cars.

"There it is." Amarillo pointed out to the driver.

"Wow, get a load of this place." Brooklyn smirked at the cheesy giant yellow building. Havana turned the SUV over the grass median and through the restaurants entrance into the parking lot. The wheels slowly came to a halt as the vehicle came to a stop in the vast asphalt lot. Everyone piled out, Amarillo led the charge to the doors of the steak house.

Brooklyn walked after the girl, eyeing the cowboy sign. "What's a 'steak ranch'?"

"Let's just follow Amarillo, come on." Havana urged the kid to keep up.

"I thought the correct term was steak house." Brooklyn jogged after the rest of the team "I swear it was steak house. . ."

Havana entered the building followed by Brooklyn. Inside it was a musty, unclean, western style restaurant.

_Zombie apocalypse's don't work wonders for first impressions, this place was a smelly mess. If you try to see through the nasty trash, dust, rotten food, and other un-pleasant things, it's really quite quaint. _

"Dad! Are you here!?" Amarillo sounded off again.

Brooklyn ran to were the girl was and slid around a corner, he skidded on his shoes for a few feet "Amarillo! Don't do that! We don't know what's in here!" Brooklyn shouted in a whisper.

She simply looked at him in distress, she wasn't going to stop until she found her family. "Dad! Da-"

A sound came from inside a room off to the left "Dad?"

Brooklyn watched Amarillo disappear through a doorway "Amarillo - Amber! Wait!" the girl failed to heed his words "Ooh man."

New York sprinted toward the door, Havana behind him. Sliding to the front of the opening Brooklyn scrambled into the room. He tripped into the middle of the room, then looked up.

"Amarillo? Wha- What are you doing?!" A sharp sting of pain in Brooklyn's words was clear. Havana jogged into the room, next to the boy.

"Hurm. . ." The woman growled.

"Stay where you are." The girl instructed, her shotgun pointed at her friends.

"A-Amber, don't do this. Not again." New York paused at her name briefly, not used to saying her real name.

"Shut up and put your hands in the air."

Brooklyn and Havana looked at each other and lifted their hands up.

"What are you doing this for?!" Havana question in confusion.

"Keep your hands up bitch." Amarillo snapped.

"Ooow, you're going to regret saying that puta. . ." Havana spoke to herself in a somewhat delighted tone.

"Amber, please, you don't have to do this." Brooklyn tried to reach her.

"Don't use my real name. Y-you can't." Amarillo winced in her speech. She said it in a different tone, as if it hurt her. Brooklyn tilted his head to get a better look at the girl's face. Suddenly he felt a thump strike the back of his head, then his whole body went numb. The kid fell to his knees then flat on the ground. As Brooklyn's vision gave out he saw his hand fall in front of his face, then he watched as Havana collapsed to the floor. His breathing drowned out all other sounds as he tried to look to Amarillo. A man stepped over his body and toward Amber, followed by another man, this time a younger one. Brooklyn watched in his fading state as the three people came together. Amarillo had the happiest look on her face as the family embraced. Brooklyn's vision then went black and he fell into unconsciousness. . . .


	8. Truth be told

Everything ached, and everything was foggy. Not even sound was heard without some kind of tunneling distortion. Out of all the senses, smell returned first to its normal state. The stench of musty furniture and rotten food entered Brooklyn's nose. Finally he opened his eyes, at first the scenery was nothing but multicolored blurs.

"Ugh. . . Erm." He groaned. His vision came more into focus as time allowed. Brooklyn tried to move but something was holding him back. Looking behind him he saw a brown blob that turned into wood as he continued to stare at it. He was in a sitting position, his legs straight out, as if he were sitting on the floor. Again his vision went in and out of focus before a ring burst in his ears, then an aching pain in the back of his head.

"Ow. . . Jeez." Brooklyn reacted to the splitting pain. He studied his surrounds to find that he was tied to a giant wooden chair.

The kid tried to jar himself loose but failed "Oh, this is cute." He muttered as he realized what he was tied on to. Brooklyn looked to his left to see Havana fastened next to him, hands bound to the giant arm rest and her feet wrapped together. "Hey, Havana, wake up."

"Huh. . .? Eeow. . . Did I, just get laid. . .?" The woman spoke in a groggy tone to her name being called.

"Hey, wake up."

"I am, I am. Do you remember what happened?" Havana finally spoke clearly.

"We were betrayed and knocked out. That's what." Brooklyn growled.

"Yea, I remember now. . . Fuck!" She yelled. "We walked straight into that one."

"Maybe. . . " The boy cast his eyes to the foreground "But we need to free ourselves."

"Not a problem." Havana smirked before flexing her arms. Her muscles tightened and flexed under her skin before the rope creaked as it went taut before snapping. "Ahh. . . How's that?"

"A bit freaky, but, can you cut me loose?" Brooklyn commented.

"Yeah, give me a second." Havana untied her legs then hopped off the giant chair. Walking around to the back of the wooden structure she began untying Brooklyn.

"Ruh! Uurah!" Something belted out a few unintelligent sounds as it suddenly galloped into the restaurant.

"Uh, our problems have just taken a turn for the worst." The kid relayed.

"What, why?" Havana said, not pausing in her work.

"Um, You know those Zulu's you've been talkin' about? Yeah, we got one. He hasn't seen us yet, but don't let that stop you from, I don't know, **speeding up a bit**!"

"Hold you're horses kid." Havana paused as the knot in her hand gave loose "There, now you're free."

Brooklyn scooted off the chair and planted his feet, that were still tied together, on the floor. The zombie strode around for a bit, in seemingly false promise, before looking through a glass spacer. It paused from it's rummaging and stepped to the right. Peering out of the glass it spotted Brooklyn.

"Uurh! Urh!" It grumbled with the undead equivalent of excitement.

"Fuck me. . ." Brooklyn sighed before turning to his right. The zombie sprinted after the kid, who was now hopping away at a medium pace. In a twisted game of potato sack racing Brooklyn jumped leaps and bounds across the room, his feet crunching on various pieces of refuse.

He looked back at his undead pursuer "No, no, no, no! Oh man!"

Havana charged after the zombie, trying to break it's attention from the boy. Brooklyn hopped one last time before he landed wrong. Royally messing up, he flipped over a table and two chairs. As he collided with the ground he began 'caterpillaring' away as best he could. The furniture he sprang over tumbled into each other and tangled in a ball of metal and wood.

"Oh man, oh man, oh man!" Brooklyn repeated as he inched away. Havana ran up the dining booth next to the two beings and jumped off. She dropped an elbow into the shoulder blades of the zombie before she landed on the ground. The undead tumbled forward, over the mess of tables and chairs. It smashed into the objects and disappeared into the pile Brooklyn created. A few moments later Havana rose to her feet.

"C'mon! You want some more!" She taunted the undead.

"Urr! Rah!" It erupted from the tangled bunch of cheap furnishings. Brooklyn turned on his back to watch the fight take place. Blood drizzled out of the zombies mouth, all over it's shirt. It leaned it's head side to side, cracking it's neck, then ran at the woman. Before the walking corpse could react, Havana landed two punches in it's face. Then she leaned back and let her boot soar into the undead's jaw.

"Uort!" The zombie sounded as it fell over on it's back. Havana jumped over it, planting one foot next to the zombies side, then rammed her right heel into its head. With a snap the flesh craving opponent was dead.

"Holy shit!" Brooklyn gasped at Havana's quick and decisive bout with the zombie.

The woman wiped her mouth "That's what he gets." Havana then stepped over to the kid and loosened the restraints on his ankles.

"Thanks." The boy nodded as he was lifted to his feet.

"No problem, now let's find a car and get out of here."

"Works for me."

The two jogged out of The Big Texan through the entrance. A tension on their lungs released as they exited the rank restaurant. It was now the beginnings of late afternoon outside, the bitter cold still lashed at anyone with bodily feeling outside. Brooklyn folded his arms as he scanned the parking lot, looking for their vehicle.

"Oh no. No, no, no, no, no!" He grabbed the back of his head and hunched over "No, aw no. Please no. God please no."

"Whoa, what? What's wrong?" Havana placed one stepped closer to the boy.

"The Suburban's gone!"

". . . And?"

"My stuff was in there! They took it all!" Brooklyn held his hands high in the air, shaking his head in crushing realization "Oh man."

"What's so important to you in there? Your rifle? . . . Wait, my rifle!" Havana remembered. She instinctively patted her self down. "Oh they're gonna' pay. . ."

Brooklyn was now crouched holding his neck "This can't be happening."

"Come on, we need to find that SUV." The woman grabbed Brooklyn and lifted him to his feet once more.

"We **need** to find it. All that I've worked for is in there." Brooklyn looked into Havana's eyes, ready for affirmative action.

"Alright then, let's move out." Havana said as she ran toward the road. Brooklyn simply followed, his eyes narrowed as he looked to the road, angered that Amarillo stole everything he had, forcing him back to square one.

* * *

Forty minutes of walking around town, the two looked for things they could use. All the cars that they checked didn't work or didn't have any keys. Havana pointed at a store along the side of the road. Brooklyn looked at the shop and nodded. They ran briefly to it and stopped in front of the large window.

"Yeah, it's a gun store. Let's have a look." Havana smiled as she stepped to the front door. Brooklyn eyed the road behind them then followed it with his sight to the north. The two then grabbed onto the metal handle of the entrance and pulled.

"I don't want to break the glass because zombies might get in." The woman said as she held onto the metal bar. Brooklyn stepped his feet back every few seconds to gain traction as his shoes slipped on the sidewalk. Finally after several seconds of tension the lock gave way and the door handle ripped off the door as it swung open. The kid flew back, letting go of the metal object, but Havana caught him with her free hand.

"You alright? Was the door a little more than you could handle?" She joked, holding the doors opening device up.

"Nah, I'm good." Brooklyn dismissed as he walked into the store. Havana followed, dropping the handle just outside of the store. Inside guns upon guns were racked on the walls. Both were in awe as they walked in circles, gazing at the arsenal.

"See anything you like?" Havana smirked.

"More like, do I see anything I don't like. . . Ow." Something caught the boy's attention. He pulled an M1 Garand from the shelf and looked over it thoroughly.

"Going old school?" The woman mentioned.

"Hell yeah. You know my Grandpa was in World War Two." Brooklyn spoke before he aimed down the sights "I think we share the same nickname too if I'm not mistaken."

Havana watched the kid sample the rifle before she went in search of her new firearm. It was amazing that they had found an untouched gun store, in Texas. Whither it was luck or right timing was unknown. Havana moved further away from her companion and looked through the hunting rifle section.

"Mmm, this'll do." She smirked as she found a suitable firearm.

"What is it?" Brooklyn questioned as he walked over to her.

"Barrett M82A1 fifty-cal sniper rifle. Shoots over a mile and can penetrate level eight ballistic glass, that's the highest grade of bullet proof glass, FYI. The most powerful gun a civilian can buy."

"Jeez, I find it hard to believe that that can be sold legally."

"Oh it can, and I'm taking it." She wrapped her left hand on the barrel of the gun as her right grabbed onto the stock. She then lifted it off the rack and brought it to her side. The two then watched the isles with excitement, like kids in a lethal candy store. Both had a love for guns, however Havana was borderline obsessed about this stuff compared to Brooklyn. The woman leading rubbed her arm that was carrying the sniper rifle.

"Are you cold?" Brooklyn questioned as he caught the action.

"A little bit, but nothing I can't handle." She dismissed.

"Here, take my jacket." The boy unzipped his hoodie and began taking his left arm out of the sleeve. He flapped his arm, then began spinning in a hopeless circle as he tried to get out of the jacket.

"Please, don't embarrass yourself, I'll be fine."

"Why?" Brooklyn looked up briefly before continuing in his half-winged bird dance "Is it because I'm a civilian and you're this badass military person?"

Havana stopped and leaned out of the isle, making sure it was clear of zombies "Pretty much."

"Hey. . ." Brooklyn paused and looked at the woman's back "That's civilian discrimination."

"No it's not." She brushed off as she moved forward.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure it is."

Havana turned to the kid "Listen, Brooklyn. I've been on three tours and fought for six months in the states against these undead. I doubt a little colds going to affect me."

Brooklyn stood still and stared blankly at Havana "Ok. But when you start sniffling and sneezing, don't come cryin' to me."

"I'll keep that in mind." The woman smirked before going on the move once more.

* * *

After spending a good hour in the store, the two survivors finally stepped out the front door. Brooklyn had the M1 Garand strapped on his shoulder and a pistol in its holster wrapped around his right thigh. Havana held her fifty caliber sniper rifle by it's handle and had a dark navy colored backpack full of ammunition and small arms on her back. Brooklyn lead on as he jogged briefly in front of the woman. He looked down the sprawling street, small snowflakes gently sank to the street, obscuring any detailed observation down the way. They pressed on while keeping a watch on the buildings to the left and their right. Some windows and doors were boarded up while others were smashed in. Possibly from looting or the all-to-common ravenous bastards. The empty feeling that was ushered from the highway they drove past filled them again. The lonely howl of the wind over the short brick building built a sense of helplessness, the sense that every survivor deals with. Brooklyn watched his feet kick in and out of vision as he walked along. He thought of what Amarillo, what Amber did. He pursed his lips and lowered his eyebrows. His left hand balled into a fist as his mind drifted to that moment. What did she mean when they were on top of the Suburban? Was that real? Or was that a sadistic game she played with him before she buried the knife in his back. Or did he feel a connection? And not just wishful thinking? Brooklyn sneered at the thought, he had no experience with such things, how could he decipher it? He then shook his head, jarring his mind from thinking. But he quickly wandered back to the thoughts. Suddenly something slapped in the distance. Brooklyn swung the gun from his shoulder and into his hands, on alert.

"It's alright, it was just the wind." Havana reassured as she stepped next to the kid. Brooklyn looked to the woman and nodded before placing the M1 back on his shoulder. Reluctantly he marched forward in the middle of the road. The cold stung his cheeks to a raw pink as he kept his head high. A slight gust blew snowflakes in his face. As he tucked his head behind the shelter of his arm Havana ran in front of him and leveled her rifle. Brooklyn lowered his arm and turned into the wind, watching his partner.

"What is it?" He asked.

Havana began to laugh confidently "I'm lovin' it!"

"What? Loving what?"

"Follow me." Havana flicked her index and middle finger toward her as she sprinted off. Without hesitation Brooklyn ran after her. He kept pace within ten feet of the woman as they ran faster down the street. The wind blew past Brooklyn's ears in a mixture of numbing cold and noisy roars. His breathing picked up as his body called for more oxygen. The rifle on his back started to smack against his leg so he took it off his shoulder and carried it with both hands. Pumping the firearm side to side he dodged to the left onto the sidewalk where Havana went.

"They're going to hear us!" Brooklyn shouted at the woman in front of him, referencing the zombies that might be around. No more than two seconds past before a fast moving figure slid in his view from the left. Brooklyn's human instinct felt no soul in the silhouette a few feet in front of him. Summoning more energy to his legs he gained on the now clear zombie. With his left hand he pulled the pistol from his side. Clicking off the safety he brought the handgun forward. Brooklyn held it out, almost like a game of tag, till it was within a few inches of the zombie's head. He pulled the trigger and a blunt crack sounded from the pistol. The undead instantly fell face first into the ground. Brooklyn lifted his finger out of the trigger loop and ran after Havana some more, brandishing both weapons in his hands. Finally the woman began to slow down and so did the boy. A few large steps forward he came to a halt next to Havana.

"That's what we're driving." The woman pointed in a decisive attitude.

Brooklyn looked at her face then followed her arm to her pointed finger, then he looked into a large window. He kept silent as he looked at the car in the building, he shrugged finally, not knowing the model.

"Nineteen-seventy Chevrolet Chevelle. It's beautiful isn't it." The woman smiled at the vehicle.

Brooklyn looked to were they ran from then back at the muscle car "Yup, sure is." He hurried, knowing more zombies are well on their way. Havana sprinted again at the entrance to the car collection building. Brooklyn followed her while he hastily checked the surroundings. The woman lifted the sniper rifle and blasted a round into the door handles. Brooklyn stumbled from the loud bang but managed to stay on his feet. As the two plowed through the door Havana went to the main counter as Brooklyn went to the car. The woman slammed the stock of her rifle into a wall mounted locker and quickly searched the keys inside. Brooklyn place his hand on the door handle and franticly tried to open the door. Havana picked a pair of keys and jogged to the Chevelle. The kid nodded as he still tired to open the car door. Havana slid the key into the door handle and turned it. Opening the door she threw the backpack and sniper rifle into the back. Sitting down in the driver seat she leaned over and unlocked Brooklyn's door. With super natural speed he put his rifle in the back and jumped in the seat. Before he could safely shut the door Havana started the car and revved the engine. She laughed with excitement as the vehicle roared to life. Brooklyn's eyes opened wide as he watched her reaction, not knowing if it was safe to be a passenger in this car.

"Back in business baby! Ha ha!" Havana yelled as she shifted the stick. The wheels screeched and the muscle car blew forward straight through the large pane of glass. The small pellets of glass splashed all over the hood and windshield of the car. Brooklyn held the ceiling handle with his right hand while grasping the seat with his left. The vehicle gained a tremendous amount of speed as it turned onto the asphalt road.

"Better than sex isn't it!" Havana roared over the engine as she held the petal to the floor.

"I- I uh, wouldn't- Uh, yeah, yea it is! Now let's, let's not go so fast!" Brooklyn yelled back.

The Chevelle came up to the peak of a hill "You wanna have some fun?" Havana asked in a smirk.

"Is this going to be life threatening?! Wha-what do you mean by-?" Brooklyn looked to the front of the vehicle "No! No!"

As the powerful car crested the hill the wheels lifted off from the ground. Brooklyn felt his heart jump into his throat as he lifted from his seat. He looked to the driver to see her laughing hysterically all the way.

"Whooooaa!" He screamed as gravity staked it's claim on the vehicle. Coming down from a ten foot high jump the muscle car crashed to earth. But, instead of ramming violently into the pavement the car hovered and floated to the ground. Brooklyn's face shot with confusion as he looked back at the landing sight. A mass of dead, tangled zombies was left in the wake of the Chevelle. They had landed on a horde of zombies, softening the fall to almost magical levels. Whirling forward Brooklyn was met with a sight of yet another truck load of zombies.

"Havana!" He exclaimed as the car barreled for the group. A fraction of a second left till impact, Havana turned the car to the right, clipping the two zombies on the fringe of the mass. She corrected the steering and they slid back into the middle of the road. Brooklyn violently rocked side to side in his seat before clenching firmly to whatever his hands were closest to.

"Are you sure you're fit to drive!?" He shouted in fear, staring the woman down.

* * *

After a prolonged exposure to high speed and bodily harm, Brooklyn became used to the 130 mile per hour scenery sheering past his window. He sank in his chair, nauseated by the force of which the objects were coming at them. It was now evening and the sun had already gone down. They had traveled through the boarder of Texas and about a few miles outside of Elk City, Oklahoma. The snow had picked up since they left Texas, it was now clear they were heading north. Brooklyn watched the white beams rush past his window and thought to himself. However, it was hard to think with an engine roaring louder than a high school football game.

"Where do you think they went?" Havana wondered as she kept her eye on the area ahead.

". . . I don't know." Brooklyn answered as he sat still, knowing who she was talking about.

Havana looked at the teenager then back at the road "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just don't know where they went. Probably not even in this direction."

"Maybe, but with this, we can catch up to them in no time."

"No time. I don't have any time. I don't have time for **this,** or any of this!" Brooklyn erupted in a flurry of anger.

"Hey! Chill out! What's so important to you that they have?!" Havana matched the kids tone.

"Oh you're the one to talk! With your damn obsession with your gun that is now happily traveling in the opposite direction we are at any given moment!"

"I got over it. Which is the same thing you should be doing right now."

Brooklyn tossed his body to the right in distress "There's no getting over this. . ."

"Why? What is it? Did that girl steal your heart and not give it back after you asked politely?" The woman blurted out as she dug for answers "Man up."

Brooklyn blinked several times, in realization. Maybe it wasn't the nuke he was so intent on retrieving, maybe it was, Amarillo.

"No, that's not it." He lied in his willful obscured thinking. God he hoped that girl wasn't the case.

"Then what is it?"

"It's what's in that car. My stuff, that I need back."

"I know that, but what is it exactly that belongs to you?"

"Personal belongings."

Havana broke the stream of words between the two for several seconds, paying attention to driving the muscle car.

"Bullshit." She stated "I've seen things people keep and something that big isn't one of them."

Brooklyn sat beside himself, not wanting to participate in the conversation any longer. More cold moments into the night passed without speech.

"Is it a warhead?" Havana said, in more of an answer than a question. Brooklyn sat up straight, his eyes burned with the sharp pain of being discovered. "You know, a bomb."

"What do you mean-?"

"Don't give me that. I served with the men and woman that put those things there in the first place. Where did you get it?" Havana waited for an answer, but it never came "Toward the last few hours of control we had left, every military force was ordered to place a nuclear warhead in the densest cities of each state closest to our position. Austin, Texas. Phoenix, Arizona. Boston, Massachusetts. Los Angles, California. Chicago, Illinois. Those were the only ones we could get to. Tell me, which one was yours?"

"LA. I found it in LA." The kid finally spoke.

". . . LA huh." Havana's tone grew dimmer "I knew the men tasked with that site." She swallowed hard "Do you know why you found it? Why it didn't go off, why it didn't destroy the city? It's because they never made it to the location, they all died! And you pried that bomb from they're cold, dead hands!"

Brooklyn raised himself in his seat, alarmed by the woman's reaction to the news. He looked at Havana, who was now regretting raising her voice at him.

"I-I'm sorry. . . They were good men, all of them. There was no way you could have known. . . "She took a deep breath "Why did you take the nuke?"

"I wanted to use it." The teenage finally managed to speak a few words.

"Where?"

"New York City."

"Humph, that would explain your name."

"I want to destroy everything on Manhattan Island. Buildings, zombies, everything. That way I can rebuild the island, into a zombie free area. An area where us, humans, can seek shelter without having to deal with the undead every single day. So we can rebuild and set our survival, as a species, back on track."

Havana's mood turned into that of awe and wonder "I. . . You were planning on doing this all by yourself?!" She interrupted her own sentence.

"From the first brick to the last." Brooklyn replied.

"I thought you were just a pussy. Now you're a dumb ass. . . A selfless, noble, dumb. . . pussy."

The kid smirked and shook his head "I'll take that as a compliment."

"In that case, you would honor the men who died for that bomb. And you have my help, along with every serviceman we come across."

"The concrete would get a little heavy after a while. I could use all the help I can get."

"Now, we need to find that bomb. Let's chase that happy little family of three to the end of the earth. We have humanity to save." Havana let out a bright smile before slamming on the accelerator.

"Wait, no! Not this again! Hoooly shit!" Brooklyn assumed the position as the turbo charged vehicle tore forward through the vacant road at breakneck speed, riding off into the night air.


	9. Situation change

_Now that I spilled the beans, I hope things make more sense now, or at least a lot of it. Everything I said to Havana was true, I wanted to rebuild humanity. But before you can rebuild, it must be destroyed, further than it already has. Which means our -humanities- most iconic city, must be eliminated. Other than it being well known, I chose it because it's on an island, perfect for defense against zombies and small enough to rebuild, but big enough to support a large community. Do you see where I'm going with this? But enough talk about the future, back to the task at hand. It was strange being in a car without Amarillo, I mean, she was with me from basically the start. I know it sounds weird but, it was like being away from your parents for the first time without her, in a way. I knew that I needed to find her for the sake of my mission. . . I just hope I could get some answers as well. . . Preferably with fewer punches to the face._

After refueling in Tulsa, Oklahoma, Brooklyn and Havana continued to search the interstate for any signs of the missing SUV that held the nuclear device. The chances that the vehicle traveled this way were slim to none, but sitting around doing nothing wasn't going to help. Brooklyn took the wheel this round, having slept, or tried to sleep, most of the way through the state. It took some getting used to, sitting behind the wheel of such a powerful machine. Being quite intimidated he took it slow, feeling that one false move will lead to explosions and large flames, followed by painful death sequences.

"How is it? Fun right?" Havana smirked in amusement as she leaned back in her seat.

"I don't know if I trust your idea of fun anymore." Brooklyn frowned nervously.

"Come on, it wasn't that nerve wracking. A little bit of that is good for you."

"A little bit of that leads to severe mental trauma, that's what that is good for."

"I don't believe this, you can survive a zombie apocalypse but can't ride in a car that goes fast without wetting yourself."

Brooklyn shrugged and continued driving. It was another cold sunny day in the beautiful nation of Zombieland. The all too common drudgery of staring at brown landscapes came back into view. The sun beamed its white light through the windshield, heating Brooklyn's pants to uncomfortable levels. He shifted to escape the unpleasant feeling but to no avail. The all too pesky source of all energy shot bright rays into the kid's eyes. He squinted trying to avoid the visual impairment.

"Hey Brooklyn, look." Havana tilted her head to the left shoulder of the road. "Looks like our luck finally turned around."

"What? What is it?" Brooklyn leaned his head side to side as if the blinding light was someone's hand in front of him "No way." He gasped, catching a glimpse of the sight.

It was the black Suburban they were searching for, pulled over. It had it's doors open with cloths hanging from them. Brooklyn steered the Chevelle to the side of the road and jumped out of the front seat. He pulled the pistol from his leg and aimed it down range at the seemingly abandoned vehicle. He stepped closer, the caution within him grew with each passing inch. Finally he leaned next to the right backseat door. Brooklyn carefully grabbed the fabric from the window with his left hand and pulled. As the veil fell from the open window he peered into the SUV. No one was inside. A woozy feeling washed over Brooklyn as he noticed everything he, Havana, and Amarillo collected still in the car, minus a few bags of food. It was like seeing home again for the first time after leaving it for years. This vehicle practically was his home, sleeping in it more times than anywhere else, minus "Optimus Prime" of course. Havana stepped next to the teen, with her handgun at the ready, and looked into the front passenger door.

"Clear." She announced without any variations in her voice.

"Nothing here either. . . Where did they go. . ." Brooklyn whispered as he followed the lining of the car. He stepped to the back and opened the trunk door. His face had a stern look as he examined the contents inside. The nuke and everything was in their original places, but he still looked concerned.

"They must of went in search of a new car." New York guessed.

"I don't know, the hood isn't open." Havana corrected.

Nodding as the mystery grew Brooklyn walked to the left side of the Suburban to look for any clues of the whereabouts of the driver. He eyed the open backseat door and saw a large mark of blood that smeared off the lip of the seat cushion. He stepped closer to the door and spotted another, this time larger, puddle of blood in the middle seat. Judging from the splatter, the drops fell from a substantial height. Then the boy cast his gaze to the ground as he turned around to a large field behind him. The blood drops seemed to trail off through the field, toward a Best Buy store out in the distance.

"Amarillo. . . Oh no." Brooklyn said under his breath as he began to walk after the red dotted line. Havana stepped to Brooklyn's side of the car to watch him head to the electronics store.

"Hey! Where are you going?" She questioned.

"They're in that store" Brooklyn pointed ahead of him "Grab some first aid stuff! Hurry!"

As he said that Havana jogged back to the muscle car, ready to bring it closer to the Best Buy parking lot. Brooklyn ran after the blood drops in a full sprint. He hopped through the waist high grass, bouncing over abnormalities in the topography. The faint sound of wheels peeling out echoed above the kid's head as he charged at the large blue and yellow store. The Chevelle roared down the interstate a few yards before turning into the road leading to the parking lot past the field. Brooklyn tried to put his handgun up a few times, missing the proper angle to drive it in, before he managed to slide it into the holster. He fastened the hoop over the guns handle as he moved his arms in tandem with his pumping leg. With a leap he jumped over the curb separating the grassy field from the firm asphalt. His left foot hit the parking lot ground and his speed picked up dramatically. Havana pulled the muscle car next to Brooklyn within five feet.

"Over there! They're inside the store!" He yelled as he pointed again to the building. The woman nodded and accelerated the car to the front of the store. Brooklyn's heart pounded as he ran, and as he thought of what could have transpired to cause that much bleeding in the SUV. Upon reaching the store front New York dodged the parking Chevelle and ran for the door. Havana jumped out of the muscle car with a bag in hand and bolted for the entrance.

* * *

Brooklyn stopped next to the checkout counters and tried to look through the isles. He picked up on the trail of blood once more and followed it. As he walked steadily through the game section Brooklyn watched as the droplets grew in size, from the evidence, the person bleeding slowed in pace on the way in here. Havana walked behind him, her eyes on the blood as well. Brooklyn led them to a crossroad in the aisles. As he quickly turned his head to the left he saw two people hunched over a female who was lying on the ground.

"Oh my god. . . Amarillo!" Brooklyn gasped as he jogged to the group, his voice echoed off the metal ceiling above them. The two men aiding the girl looked up with surprise as these unknown strangers approached them.

"Don't worry, we're here to help. What happened?!" The boy questioned.

"I-I don't know! She just, just started bleeding everywhere!" The younger male exclaimed.

"Ok, step aside, let us handle this." As Brooklyn declared he and his partner's role the two men moved aside. Havana knelt next to Amarillo's left shoulder, where the blood was coming from, and opened her green pack. Brooklyn crouched on his knee on the girl's right side.

"Amarillo, can you hear me? What happened?" He question, almost like an ordinary paramedic. No words came from the girl's mouth, but her blue-green eyes shot to the source of the questions.

"Brooklyn. . .?" Amber questioned as she stared at him.

"Yes, it's me. Here, hold my hand." He asked. Amarillo lifted her right hand and Brooklyn gently wrapped his fingers around her palm.

"What's it look like?" The older man question.

"It's a gunshot wound. Exactly what I've been trained to handle, so hang on girl." Havana spoke as she grabbed a bottle of disinfectant.

"A gunshot wound!" The questioning male gasped. "When did this happen?!"

"We don't know sir. We're just trying to fix it. Now if you'll give me a second." Havana explained, then she directed her attention to Amarillo "This is going to hurt."

The woman tilted the bottle of disinfectant over the wound.

"Aahha!" Amarillo screamed as her shoulder burned with immense pain. Brooklyn tightened his grasp on the girl's hand as she squeezed it, clenching her teeth.

"Hang in there, it's almost over." The boy reassured Amber as he watched the clear liquid flow out of the wound with a red tint. Some of the antiseptic spilled through the injury to the ground.

"Clear entrance and exit path. At least we don't have to worry about a bullet, this should heal quickly after this is all done. And no tendon damage that I see, you're a lucky one." Havana relayed to the group watching. Finally the woman set aside the bottle of fire and picked up an olive colored bag that was sealed tightly. From the looks of it, it looked like military rations of some sort.

"What is that?" Amarillo question through her pain. Eyeing the unwrapping hands hastily work.

"It's a powder haemostatic agent. In other words it'll seal the wound and help it heal faster." Havana informed as she ripped open the bag and shook it over the sterilized area. Amber winced as the course grain collected in her shoulder.

The patient turned to Brooklyn. The boy looked back, almost seeing the emotions and feelings whirl around in Amarillo's irises. Havana took out a handful of gauze and placed it on both ends of the gunshot wound.

"Brooklyn, can you hold these?" She moved her eyes up from Amarillo's shoulder to the teenager in front of her.

"Sure." The boy brought both of his hands forward and pressed them on the fabric "Like this?"

"Yeah." Havana accepted as she grabbed a roll of sterile gauze. She began wrapping the girl's shoulder, her hands fluent as if they have practiced this hundreds of times over. While she continued to wrap the wound Havana grabbed two metal pin type objects and put them in between her teeth. As the roll unraveled to it's end the woman took one of the small metal fasteners and attached it to the wrapping. The flat piece of metal had four small teeth on it, two on each side. It dug into the fabric and held the end in place, so it wouldn't come undone. After using the second fastener Havana lifted to a crouch.

"Ok, let's get her to her feet." She aimed at Brooklyn.

Wrapping the wounded girl's arm around the back of his neck, Brooklyn prepared to lift Amarillo.

"Alright. Three. . . Two. . ." Havana counted down before lifting. However the woman lifted before her partner.

"Ack!" Amarillo sounded as her shoulder stretched, calling for use of the area around the gunshot.

"Oh! Sorry, sorry!" New York apologized.

"Brooklyn!" Havana scolded.

"You didn't count to one! I was waiting for that!" He explained, but the listener only rolled her eyes.

"Is everything ok?" The father stepped to his daughter's aid.

"Yes everything's going to be fine. She needs some rest though." Havana ordered as she continued her role as medic.

"Ok, we can do that. Evan, can you talk to these kind people while I take your sister somewhere to rest." The father asked.

"Evan, huh?" Brooklyn murmured to himself.

"Actually, let me help you with her, just in case." Havana nodded.

"Ok." The man accepted as Brooklyn drew his shoulder from Amarillo's arm. Her dad quickly filled the boy's place, then the two adults carefully stepped off.

* * *

Brooklyn waited for the three to walk a good thirty feet out of view. He moved his jaw side to side before he eyed the space to the left of Evan. He paused and quickly pulled his pistol form his right leg.

"Okay, Evan. I got a question. How's it like to be on the receiving end?" Brooklyn smirked as he leveled the handgun at the teenager's face.

"What do you mean man?!" Evan question in a frightened tone.

"Oh? The back of my head isn't familiar to you?!"

"Wha-what!?"

"Uh, that came out a little weird. . . Ahem. You and your Dad are the two that knocked me and my friend out, back in Amarillo." Brooklyn explained, but his words were only met with a blank stare. He held the pistol at the silent kid. Brooklyn studied his hostage while he waited for an answer. Amarillo's brother had faint remnants of blue dye in his hair, the natural light brown apparent at the roots. He wore black skinny jeans with a metal studded belt while his shirt was plain black, and rather small but still decent for a male to wear. He still looked to be in the high school phase of life. His apparel suggested he still had a brooding mentality, along with a distain look upon public order and society. Before Brooklyn could get a good look at Evan's shoes he felt his hand bend. Then a sharp pain shot through his elbow.

"Ah! Fuck!" Brooklyn yelled as he was flipped over the other teenager. He crashed to the ground on his back, smacking his vision blurry. His mind fogged as he tried to analyze whether he was thrown or flipped over the kid. Then New York shifted his eyes on the teen stripping the gun from his hand. Quickly Brooklyn flipped onto his stomach and slipped his legs under his body. With a burst of strength he lunged at Evan's hand and grabbed the gun. He managed to rip the gun free with relative ease. Holding the tip of the handle he tossed it over several aisles of video games, that way both of them couldn't use it. A swift kick then struck his side. With a grunt Brooklyn sat up against the shelf stacked with more game cases. Evan grabbed him by the collar and lifted him to his feet. A punch struck Brooklyn across the face and he twirled into the shelf from the force. New York leaned into the large object for support but the whole metal structure toppled forward. He rode the falling mass of metal and plastic until it slammed into the ground, the shelf edges jabbing him in the stomach and chest. As it all crashed to the ground he looked up, dazed by the blow that sent him into this position.

"Ugh. I'm getting my ass kicked by an emo kid. . ." Brooklyn groaned as he held onto the shelf edges. Suddenly his opponent grabbed him by the right ankle and dragged him off the wrecked organizer. The kid pushed his right side over with a quick shove of his hand and flipped, facing Evan. Brooklyn slung the M1 Garand off his shoulder and held the barrel like a baseball bat. With a quick swipe the wooden stock struck the other teen in the side of the head. He led go of his hold on Brooklyn and staggered back, holding his face.

New York jumped to his feet and tossed the rifle where his pistol went. He didn't want to kill the guy, and Brooklyn sure as hell didn't want Evan killing him.

"Your turn." Brooklyn smirked as he wiped the blood from his lower lip. He charged Evan, cranking back his right arm. At just the right moment the stunned kid turned his head close to Brooklyn. With that he swung a hard uppercut straight into the face of the teenager. The kid's body leaned up and over from the punch and fell straight on his back.

"Boom! That's how we get it done in the Bronx." Brooklyn grinned at his punch.

"aww. . ." Evan reeled in pain as he held his nose. New York continued to smile at his sudden victory over the somewhat taller teen. As a few seconds past he had a change of heart, his face swapped the cocky grin for a concerned frown. Brooklyn walked to the side of the kid and crouched next to him.

"Hey, you going to be alright? I didn't want to-" Suddenly a balled fist smacked into Brooklyn's nose and momentarily blinded him. "Ack! Jesus!"

He fell onto his backside and heard the other boy get up and step away.

"Oh shit." Evan muttered almost to himself. Then his footfall was heard leaving in a staggered run.

"Erm! Cheap bastard!" Brooklyn held his fingers over his nose. Hearing something behind him he looked back. "Whoa!"

Behind the boy was a group of four zombies, silently sneaking at him in the classic zombie shuffle until they were spotted. With speed and diligence he came to his feet and bolted from the undead. His legs were wobbly from the fight and he stumbled slightly before catching himself.

"Havana!" Brooklyn yelled as he blew through a display stand. Upon turning the corner he saw several stacks of Guitar Hero guitars for various game consoles. He stepped over to the waist-high stack and frantically ripped the side of the closest box open and dug through it. Brooklyn looked back at the zombies and pulled at the insides of the box. Squeaks from the Styrofoam rubbing against the cardboard box yelled at the boy's ears. Finally the plastic guitar came free, but the detached neck fell to the ground, with most of the packing material.

"Damn it." Brooklyn bent down and grabbed the lengthy object. Retrieving it he lifted his head to see one of the scrawnier zombies a few feet from him. He gasped and darted backwards with both halves of the guitar. Row after row of electronics and accessories pasted Brooklyn as he gained distance from the lanky male corpse. Valuable seconds past as the kid ran through the store, looking for the others. He brought the neck and axe in front of him and tried to attach them on the go. With a satisfying click the two halves became whole, Brooklyn now had a weapon. He slowed down and eyed a glass display case.

"Ow, a Droid." He stared at a sleek black cell phone through the glass, forgetting about the hungry demons behind him entirely. He thought for a moment about smashing open the case and liberating it from it's definite entombment. Brooklyn's mind shot back into reality and he looked around the immediate area. He saw another glass case full of iPods and their smaller counterparts. He swung the plastic guitar into the glass, shattering it and grabbed as many MP3 players as he could. With two hand-fulls of various colored iPods he tossed them to the walkway were the zombie should be coming from. Sure enough the raging undead blasted into view, but quickly lost footing as it cracked and slid over the music players. It must of slid ten feet before it finally lost total control and crashed to the ground. Brooklyn watched the zombie strike the ground and turned to run further down the music aisle.

"Shit, shit, shit! Oh man." He eyed the intersection in front of him with haste "Havana!"

"Brooklyn?" A female voice questioned back.

"Hav-Amarillo?"

"Brooklyn? Where are you?!" The girl questioned in alarm.

"I'm in the," He looked to the sign behind him that lowered from the ceiling "Music section. Where are you?"

"I'm over here!" She shouted.

"That doesn't help!" Brooklyn looked around for waving arms or some proverbial sign of distress but couldn't see any. He kept on his way through the music section and out to the front counters. He looked to the left and saw the girl trying to look over the racks of merchandise.

"Amarillo!" Brooklyn shouted at the girl, unaware of his presence. She spun around to see the boy standing there, holding a guitar in his right hand.

"Brooklyn!" She ran toward him as best she could "Where is the rest of the group?"

"Oh, so now you're concerned for others? That's thoughtful of you." He spat, still ticked by what the girl had done to him.

"Please, now's not the time for that. We need to find the others."

Brooklyn turned his back and marched down the wide open space "Yea, you mean find your family so you can just abandon us again. . ."

"Hey!" Amarillo ran next to the kid and stared him in the face "You would have done the same thing if it was your family!"

"I don't have a family!" New York paused in his steps and yelled at the girl. She only stared at him, her brow lowered in anger, but her eyes sparked with intrigue.

Brooklyn sneered back and bit down on his teeth "Not all of us are as lucky as you. . ." Amarillo stared into his eyes longer, her expression let go of her anger. The boy shot his eyes to the ground then walked off, his shoulders hunched over in a menacing stride. Amber shook her head slightly and jogged next to her former partner. Brooklyn only kept his pace as he saw the feet of the girl step next to him. The two traveled forward to the appliance section of the store. Brooklyn had seemingly lost the zombies that were pursuing him for now. But it was only a matter of time before they picked up on his trail again.


	10. Work in progress

Brooklyn turned his body sideways to slip through a tight space between two driers. Amarillo did the same and sped up next to the kid as the isle widened.

"Do you have any idea where the others went?" She leaned her head to look at the boy's eyes.

He pursed his lips and turned his head slightly, recognizing her plea was sincere "I don't know."

"What about Evan? You were with him last."

"He ran off somewhere, I didn't follow him."

"He ran off? Without trying to help you? That's so unlike him. Wait, why are you bleeding?" Amarillo noticed blood shinning on his bottom lip.

"That's the thing, he kicked my ass."

"He what!?"

"Don't worry, I kicked his ass back." Brooklyn reassured as he peered around a corner.

"You-!? You two got in a fight?!"

The kid turned to Amber and held his hands out, ready to explain "Well you see, I kinda' pulled a gun on him and he didn't like that a whole lot and did some crazy Steven Segal shit and disarmed me-"

"Why?" She sighed and walked in a small circle "Why do you always do things like that?! That's- That's so like you!"

"What's that suppose to mean?"

"It's suppose to mean that every time something serious is going on, you pull some dumb stunt!"

"Really?" Brooklyn smirked and shook his head "Give an example, right now, just one."

"Let's see, where do I start. Oh, how about this: Back in Arizona, when we were leaving the state you thought it would be cool to run over a group of zombies and you just so happen to not see that giant hole in the overpass. We nearing went straight through it and plunged to our deaths!"

_We. . . We didn't cover that. For obvious reasons._

"Ok. But the moral of that story is the front bumper caught the edge of the hole and bounced us safely over the gap. Beside all those inner tubes on the road concealed it from my direct line of sight."

"Ugh! I don't believe you! Can you not take anything seriously?" Amber threw her arms to her sides, hating the excuses.

"Sometimes you either got to laugh or throw up, and seeing that food is as scares as it is, you can't afford to throw up."

Amarillo pauses in her animation and held back a slight laugh "Let's just find the others."

"Let's." Brooklyn agreed and continued forth down the appliance section. He stepped over a refrigerator door and walked next to the stores outer wall. He paid close attention to not stray from the line where the wall and floor connected.

"I'm surprised you actually managed to stand up to my brother in a fight. He's a black belt in several martial arts." Amarillo commented as she carefully stepped over the unhinged door.

"I think I realized that the moment I left the ground." Brooklyn kept his head facing forward "Where did he learn all that? Some martial arts pilgrimage?"

"Hah, no. Our dad had us take self defense classes when we turned thirteen. He took the hand to hand stuff and liked it. So he continued to study them. I took the basics of hand to hand and firearms courses."

"What the hell?! Is your Dad like a hardcore ex-military guy or something?"

"No, we're just a survivalist type family, I guess. At least that's what he told me every time I asked."

"Jesus Christ. . . And I thought I was going to get lucky and not run across any psychopaths."

"He's not a psychopath, just a little heavy duty. I thought it was crazy too but I just grew used to it and rolled with it. What about you?"

"Nothing like your family, just standard street fighting, like a normal kid grownin' up in New York. Took a brief boxing class back in middle school, it was offered free. To keep kids away from drugs and violence I guess. Other than that, just several fights in grade school."

"Hmph, I would have never guessed."

"Yeah, well it came with it's fair share of principal meetings so I wised up real quick." Brooklyn nodded at his statement and walked forward. He noticed something strange in front of them and slightly gasped"What the hell?"

"What?" Amber questioned. She peered to the right of her partner to see a giant hole blown in the wall ten feet in front of them. Bricks scattered all over the ground, cracks scarred the off-white tile where the stone rectangles. Most likely from the bricks that landed when the large blue wall was first breeched. Brooklyn turned his head to the right, noticing a fork lift covered in bricks and dried blood. From the looks of it, this event occurred quite a while ago.

"Something happened here." Brooklyn spoke in awe as he stepped into the entrance of the hole. On the other side was a Sears store, the signs suggesting the name littered the interior of the new area. The boy looked to the dirt gathered on the ground and made out several shoe prints in it.

"Hey, what shoes does your brother wear?" Brooklyn snapped his fingers at the girl, signaling her over.

"I don't know, why?" Amber questioned, not seeing the meaning in the question.

"These are Converse, like mine, and I haven't been in here yet. Let's go have a look." New York nodded as he walked through to the other store.

"How do you know they're not old?"

"I don't, but do you have a better idea?"

The girl paused, taking some time to agree with Brooklyn "you're right, let's go."

* * *

Brooklyn led Amarillo down the center isle in the home décor section of Sears. He step silently forward, holding the plastic guitar out in front of him as he swept the area with his eyes. The store remained quiet as the only living visitors for months roamed around, almost as aimlessly as the dead ones.

"Er. . ." Amber groaned behind the boy.

Brooklyn turned his head to her "Is everything alright?"

"My shoulders just a bit sore."

"Don't be modest, that shit's probably hurting like a mother right now."

"Erm. . . Yeah, you're right. . ." She staggered to Brooklyn's side, her face riddled with the signs of painful distress.

"Here, let me help you." The boy dropped his guard and lifted the girl's right arm around his neck "How's this?"

"It'll help." Amber looked at Brooklyn and smirked faintly.

"Tell me if you need me to slow down or anything."

"Ok." The girl nodded.

Brooklyn stepped forward as he watched Amarillo's feet keep pace with his. The two steadily made it further into the store, in search of the person that left the footprints in the dirt. New York held his fake instrument tight as he helped his friend maintain an effective speed. It was weird helping someone that, more or less, betrayed him. Just yesterday he would have never envisioned himself helping her like this, or seeing her at all for that matter. Also it was strange being this close to a girl, he never really got within close proximity to one prior to the outbreak. The nervous jitters that came from lack of experience were nullified by the adrenaline in his body, ushered by helping another human being survive.

"Listen Brooklyn. I'm sorry for everything I did. I don't have any excuses for you because I know you won't want to hear them. I'm just sorry, for everything." Amarillo admitted as the two shuffled along the walkway.

"It's ok, I forgive you." Brooklyn answered, not entirely meaning it. He was still somewhat bitter inside about what happened in the Big Texan, you just don't get over something like that in one day.

"No, you don't, and I don't expect you to. It was just spur of the moment thinking. There was a million different solutions I could have picked, but I chose the wrong one."

Brooklyn studied her apology for a moment, whether it was heartfelt or not was vague, but he had a good hint it was real.

"Is that the pain talking or do you mean it?" He questioned her motives. Amarillo squinted her eyes and looked away, hiding her face from him. She was hurt that her apology was questionable, and that the receiver questioned it in that way. Brooklyn felt his heart sink, as if Amarillo's feelings transferred directly to him. She actually meant it, every word, but he tossed it in the dirt like it was nothing. Brooklyn began to get that douche bag feeling inside him as he pressed on. He hung his head slightly and sighed.

_Yup, way to mess that one up Brooklyn. Homerun, homerun._

Suddenly large foot steps sounded from behind the two. Brooklyn looked over his and Amarillo's shoulder to see a massive dark figure behind them. He opened his eyes wider and stared at the behemoth. It was a zombie standing about seven feet tall with a muscular build, like some sort of pro wrestler.

"Oh. We might want to pick up the speed." Brooklyn said calmly before hurrying forward. Amber kept up as she continued to look away. The boy looked back to check on the gigantic bodybuilder and stepped even faster. The monster behind them remained unnoticed by Amarillo as New York tried to escape it's rage.

"Why do you want to go so fast?" The girl finally questioned, as they both were now practically running.

"RAAAH!" The monstrosity behind them finally let out a guttural roar. The noise was so loud, that the very volume itself shook the two's hearts.

"That's why!" Brooklyn cringed as he tucked his head into his shoulders. He tightened his arm around Amarillo's waist and ran, almost towing the girl behind him. The beast started into a dash for the two teenager's fleeing it's sight. Their current speed wasn't going to outrun the huge zombie steaming after them.

"Hold on!" Brooklyn yelled as he dropped the guitar and swept Amber off her feet. He picked her up with both arms and held her in front of him.

"What are you doing?!" The girl yelled, not too pleased about being picked up like a sack of potatoes.

"I'm trying to save our asses!" He exclaimed back, running as fast as he could with Amarillo in his arms. The zombie behind them grabbed a large chunk out of an aisles display shelf and hurled it at the two.

"Watch out!" Amber screamed as she saw the wooden panel soar at them.

"Aah! Shit!" Brooklyn roared as he took two large steps and leaped onto a mattress model. With a spring his foot impacted the center of the bed then bounced off. His face burst with surprise as he sprung into the air. His left foot then landed on the other bed and did the same. The thrown object smashed into the first bed display, decimating the entire set up. Amarillo watched in horror as the hulking undead gained on them.

"Whoa, whoa! Jeeez!" Brooklyn sounded as he skipped from mattress to mattress, all the while holding tight onto the girl. The zombie stepped in leaps and bounds till it was almost next to New York.

"Ah! I'm loosing it!" Brooklyn informed Amber as his legs began to land at weird angles. "Run!" He yelled as he heaved the girl to the left away from him. She careened to a king-sized bed and smacked straight onto it. Her body was engulfed by a mixture of large and medium sized pillows. Now with his hands free, Brooklyn flapped them around madly as he tried to stay upright. He looked to his right to see the giant next to him wheezing at him, staring straight into his eyes. The boy then shot a glance to the last bed of the display lineup, which was just four mattresses away. He strengthened his steps and finally jumped from the third bed. He planted both feet square into the soft bedding and left it with force.

"Hooo!" Brooklyn yelled as he catapulted higher than the zombie next to him. He flew over the crossing path that intersected the walkway that he and Amarillo were walking on just moments ago. He flew about twenty feet forward into a massive stack of boxed shoes. As Brooklyn hit the boxes, they all caved in and he planted straight into the middle. Finally he came to a complete stop as he was buried in the somewhat soft cushioning. Shoes rolled out of their packaging to the floor, white sheets of crumpled paper flew everywhere, and brown cardboard boxes jolted into the air and cascaded down in masses. The giant zombie stopped next to the pile of boxes and looked at it inquisitively. Then it began to dig, shoving it's fingers into the mess.

"Whooa!" Brooklyn exclaimed as he exploded from the pile, having been almost touched by this, thing searching for him. The boy looked back at the leviathan as he sprinted away. The zombie snorted in anger and plowed through the mess of shoes, it's speed unfazed by the dense ankle high pile. New York looked forward to see Amarillo limping onto the walkway he was sprinting on. She looked at him then his pursuer and began running as fast as Brooklyn.

"What now!" The boy yelled at his partner.

"I don't know, I thought you had a plan!" She said back.

"Just keep running! I'll figure something out!" Brooklyn instructed as he looked at the passing objects. He spotted a large metal rod on a glass desk to his right and swooped it up. He quickly turned around and threw the rod like a Greek peltast at the zombie. It simply swatted the metal pipe out of the air and kept running. It then ripped a post from one of the beds and roared before lobbing it at the kid. Brooklyn backed up a few steps before turning to run. He tried to get away from the projectile but failed. Instinctively he ducked. The post barely missed as it spun over his head. Amber stopped to watch the event unfold in terror. The elongated object shattered a glass shelf before spinning wildly just feet in front of the boy. It broke another glass desk before bouncing off that and smashing into a tall glass shelf holding mugs and china. All the girl could see was a cloud of glass and shards of debris. A second pasted before Brooklyn was spotted leaping over the post, and through the wall of broken glass. Shards pelted off of the kids hoodie as he held his arms in front of his head. His left foot hit the ground and he continued to route from zombie Godzilla.

"Run! Just keep running!" Brooklyn ordered as he waved his right hand forward. Amarillo turned and ran off into the maze of aisles several yards ahead. The boy looked around his surroundings to notice he was in the hardware section. He dodged the line of sight of the zombie as he tucked into one of the aisles. An eerie calm swept over the store as Brooklyn tried to keep his breathing under control, being as silent as possible. He looked behind him to make sure he wasn't followed. The kid kept watch on where he came from as he slowly stepped backward. He swallowed to ease his stinging throat then let out a heavy breath. As Brooklyn turned he slammed face first into a pillar that was covered in cloth. He shook off the hit and looked up to discover it wasn't a pillar at all. Instead, it was the massive zombie once again, towering over him. A sudden impact slammed into the boy's throat. Then he was lifted slowly into the air. As his feet parted from the ground Brooklyn gripped the gargantuan wrist attached to his neck. He couldn't breath as the zombie tightened its grip around his throat.

"A-Ack! Hel. . .Help!. . ." Brooklyn tried to speak but what came out was barely audible. The zombie grinned its nasty brown teeth as it looked at Brooklyn struggle. The kid kicked his legs but nothing was happening. His sight began to outline in black and a slight haze of rainbow netting swollowed his vision. The undead leaned its gapping mouth at New York's face. The pungent smell of decaying flesh and month old protein shakes blew into his nose. Before the undead could get within biting distance, it howled as something buried into it's back. The zombie let its chokehold on Brooklyn go and the kid dropped to the ground like a ballistics dummy. He fell to his knees and held his throat, inhaling deeply before coughing. The zombie spun around reaching for the thing lodged in it's back. Amarillo had swung an axe into the upper back of the zombie to save Brooklyn. The girl had already ran through the aisle parallel to the one the zombie occupied and reached for the boy's shoulders.

"We need to go, now!" She said to the recovering teenager who was knelt on the ground. Before New York could stand, the zombie snapped the axe out of it's back and hacked it into the wooden shelf. It set it's gaze back on Brooklyn and stepped closer. Amber picked the boy up from the ground and threw him out of the aisle behind her. As the boy hit the cold tile, out of reach of the zombie, he watched as the zombie targeted the girl right in front of him.

"Amarillo! No!" He yelled as he lifted from the ground. Before the sound of his voice faded from the air the zombie smacked Amber down the hardware section. She hit the ground and skid into the other tool aisle, across from the previous one. Brooklyn got up and grabbed a large garden weasel from the rack next to him. He spun the menacing looking device so the business end faced forward. As the muscular zombie stepped out of the aisle Brooklyn rammed the spiked weasel end into the being. He wheeled it up and down the zombie's body. It felt like all he was doing was rolling paint onto the surface of a wall. The enraged ogre roared and brought it's forearm down onto the wooden stick, snapping it in half. Then it backhanded it's attacker.

"Erm!" Brooklyn growled as he was flung to the side. He stumbled as he stubbornly tried to stay on his feet but crashed headfirst into the wall horizontal to the aisles. As he hit the ground a large box fell next to him. The boy felt like going to sleep right then and there. The firm, cool tile felt inviting to his aching body. It had been forever since he slept without his knees practically lodged in his ribs. The boy shook his head to snap out of the unconscious thought and lifted to his knees. Brooklyn looked at the box, it read "Husqvarna" in bold blue letters. Then he caught the words "Chainsaw". The box boasted about 119cc's of power, which even to Brooklyn seemed like a lot, and he was no expert on motorized equipment. The boy grabbed for the box panel and ripped it open. He dug through the contents of the box and pulled out the massive chainsaw.

"Damn. . ." He whispered as he looked at it. Then he looked to the zombie who was standing over the injured girl. Brooklyn ran to the other chainsaws and spotted a section of gasoline tanks. He stepped next to one hastily and opened the cap. He then twisted off the fuel cap to the saw and began pouring the flammable liquid into the power tool. A few seconds of New York holding the can of gas at a tilt over the hole and it was ready for action. Brooklyn then ran back to the aisle and stood in the middle of the garden tool section. He grabbed the pull string and ripped it back. The chainsaw buzzed for a second then immediately stopped. He then pulled it again, this time the saw roared to life.

Brooklyn revved it several times "Hey Big Show, I got somethin' for ya'!"

He then charged at the back of the zombie. As he got within a foot he cocked back his arms then rammed the chainsaw forward. He pulled it up in between the legs of the giant corpse.

"Aaahh!" Brooklyn yelled as the saw ripped into the zombie. On the other side Amarillo watched as the tip of the chainsaw sliced upward, blood splattered everywhere in the direction of the chain. Brooklyn pushed the saw higher and higher into the undead, ripping it in two. He revved the throttle, making sure to prevent any kickback. Blood coated the white tile on the ground and the shelves on either side of the kid. The saw's blade was now tearing up into the ribs of the towering undead.

"Eraah! Raah!" Brooklyn roared before he pulled the chainsaw down and out of the zombie. The corpse stood there for a moment, as if nothing happened. Then Brooklyn lifted his left arm and gently tipped the body forward with his index finger. With that push the bloody mess fell to the ground, next to Amarillo.

"Chainsaw-domy." Brooklyn cringed as he looked down at the dead zombie. Amarillo stood up from the floor to escape the blackish-red liquid that quickly coated the tiles. She stepped over the body to New York and hugged him. Brooklyn instantly dropped the chainsaw as the girl embraced him. He brought his arms up and wrapped them around Amber. He felt kind of weird hugging her after he just killed something, with a chainsaw. She clinched her fist, grabbing the fabric of his hoodie and some of his shirt underneath. They stood there for a moment, perfectly silent. Then the boy felt Amarillo release her grip on his jacket and a slight moan escape her lips. Then she went slack, leaning against Brooklyn.

"Hey, whoa. Whoa." He spoke as she didn't stop pushing against him and he began to fall backwards. He stumbled as he tried to brace himself but couldn't. He let go of Amarillo as he tried to catch onto something. She collapsed to the ground with an unconscious thud. Brooklyn jumped back into a rack of metal buckets and pottery.

"Ouch-Geez. . . Oww." He groaned as he sat in an extremely uncomfortable position, buckets falling over his shoulders. "Smooth. . . Smooth. . ."

* * *

Brooklyn walked to the cashier counters of Sears, Amarillo in his arms. He kept watch of the area around them. Still looking for the other humans. He looked down at the passed out girl in his grasp. Her eyelids flickered slightly as he waited for any sign of her waking up. Then he lowered his ear to her mouth and nose, listening for breathing. Amarillo was still alive, which was good of course, but her breaths were labored. Brooklyn lifted his head upright as he heard something in the distance behind him. Looking back he squinted to see what it was. Leaning his head he finally managed to see what it was. It looked like someone running at him, dressed in all black. For sure it was Evan, finally he found Amber's brother. Then, several more figures swooped in behind the darkly clad person.

"Not good." Brooklyn said to himself as he brought his head back. Then he turned to run for the door. His feet smacked with an echo on the tile, his stride looked like a turkey frantically waddling away. The roars of a lot of zombies started to come into range.

"Ooh man!" The boy yelled as he looked back to see just how many were back there. The guy in black was now closer than before, blue hair a definite indicator of him being Evan. The automated door slid open as Brooklyn escaped the building. The doors began to shut as Amarillo's brother slammed into them. He squeezed through the gap and continued out of Sears. Then Evan pasted Brooklyn, he watched as the black bolt ran past. They made eye contact then he looked down at his sister. New York looked back at the doors to see masses of undead piling out of the door. Like a deranged mob on black Friday, they plowed out of the store few by few.

"Jesus! What did you do!?" Brooklyn yelled at Evan.

He looked back at the kid talking "I opened a door! They must have been all back there trapped!"

"Why would you do that?!"

"They sounded like real people!"

"Rookie mistake. . . Here! Take you're sister!" The boy handed Evan the girl. The two made the exchange mid sprint. Now freed of the burden, Brooklyn pumped his arms up and down in a normal run. He took a quick look off to the left to see two more humans running from another boat load of zombies.

"Hey!" New York waved his arms in the air "Hey!"

"Brooklyn!" A familiar female voice yelled back. It was Havana, running with Amarillo's father. The two adults ran closer to the teenagers, Havana held three weapons on her, along with the backpack.

"Take this! I think it belongs to you!" The woman threw Brooklyn his M16. "Now help us kill a few of these bastards!"

The kid caught the firearm with both hands and nodded "Alright, but we need to get Amarillo into the car!"

"Roger! Just run and shoot!" Havana turned her upper body at the large congregation of zombies and let loose the M1 Garand on them. Brooklyn turned the safety switch off and pulled the hammer back of his rifle. He stepped into a backwards run and shot bursts into the crowd. Two zombies fell from the first wave of bullets. Then another burst struck a zombie that was exposed by the first two dieing. After the third spray a larger than normal zombie broke out from the crowd.

"Shit! Not another! Where do you guys come from!" Brooklyn yelled as he shouldered his weapon at the body builder. He shot a few rounds into the beast before the clip went dry. As he turned a bright colored flyer smacked into his face.

"Oof!" He ripped it from his face and looked at it. The paper advertised a body building convention down the road "That explains it."

"Brooklyn! Why aren't you shooting?!" Havana questioned as she watched the teenager.

New York tossed the poster to the ground and pointed at his assault rifle "Out of ammo!"

"Get over here and grab a clip from my pack!"

Brooklyn nodded and pedaled his feet toward the woman. He latched his left hand onto the spent clip and yanked it from the gun. He then slipped the metal brick into his back pocket and grabbed onto one of the zippers of the backpack. As he dug into the navy sack he stubbed his fingers on a flat metal surface. Brooklyn felt around for the edges and pulled it out. He fastened the new clip into his M16 and pulled the hammer once more. As he looked up from his task a field of grass belted toward his feet. Havana jumped to transfer from the pavement to the dirt, Brooklyn did the same a second later. As the bottom of his shoe sank slightly into the soggy ground he spun his shoulders around. Another volley of rounds pelted the horde of undead, taking out several. Havana spun around fully and held her ground against the menace descending upon them fifty yards away. Brooklyn did the same next to the woman on her left. Amarillo's dad also stopped and fired at the large number of zombies. As the muzzle flashes lit the brown grass with light, zombie after zombie fell. One jumped off the higher level parking lot only to be shot mid air, crashing down to the ground below. The Garand Havana was firing sung with a metallic ping. She quickly pulled an eight round clip and inserted it in the top of the rifle. She pulled the charging handle back and resumed firing. After a few more shots she turned around.

"Ok, fall back to the SUV!" She ordered. Brooklyn fired one last burst and followed Havana's instruction. Evan had already put Amarillo in the Suburban and stood outside the door.

"Take the front seat!" The woman pointed out the Suburban to Amber's father. He nodded and ran past her and Brooklyn toward the right side of the vehicle. Amarillo's father signaled Evan to get in the door next to him. As they entered the car New York jumped into the SUV's back seat next to Amber, then Havana opened the driver's side door and climbed in.

She slung the backpack into the space between Brooklyn's legs and back of her chair. She looked at the boy behind her "Hang on, this is going to get hot."

Brooklyn noticed the sly smirk on her face "You scare me."

With that Havana smiled and turned to start the car. The engine came to life smoothly and the woman threw it into drive. The tires spun and squealed as she pressed the accelerator. The SUV bounced as the tired caught traction and shot off. Brooklyn slammed his left hand in the ceiling handle and bit down on his teeth. Havana steered the rocketing Suburban onto the road and away from the zombies. The two boys in the backseat looked through the back window to see the horde right behind them, the zombies still running at top speed. Brooklyn turned around in his seat and sunk into it, not wanting to look out the window.

"Haha! Yeah baby! That's what I'm talkin' about!" Havana laughed as she looked through the rear view mirror.

Brooklyn put his hand over his eyes and sighed "I think I'm going to throw up. . ."


	11. That fuzzy feeling

_It's been a full day since we left Tulsa. We were now somewhere in the middle of Missouri, I couldn't tell with all the trees on both sides of the road. I swear it was like a friggin' jungle in there. A day pasted since we left that mess in the shopping center. According to Evan he went to the back of one of the stores and opened the warehouse door, thinking real, living people were in there. . . Well we all know how that turned out. After we narrowly escaped with just enough space between life and certain death to pass a paper through, we talked things over with Amarillo's family. She convinced her father to let her stay with Havana and I. I was surprised that she wanted to stay with us, after what she had done, and me being an ass. Nevertheless she put up a good case about Havana being a "medical professional" and how she would be better off in our care, even with the subsequent beat-down after she healed looming over head. _

The pine trees on either side of the Suburban were laden with white clumps of snow. The ground was completely covered in the stuff, more so than the trees. As the numerous white spires stretched out they gave way to a perfectly clear sky. Not even a plane blemished the blue arcing lid, which was to be expected for obvious reasons. To Brooklyn it was easy to slip into the mindset that everything was alright. As to be just another joy ride in the heart of America. Part of him wished the case was so, but the other thought differently. If it was, just a normal day, Brooklyn would be stuck in his house, playing video games or mindlessly surfing his Facebook hoping for his friends to notice him. The friends he had back home weren't really "friends" per se. Rather, they were just people that would interact with you in person, but other than that it was like you didn't even exist. Sure they'd come to a party if invited, but they would never invite you to a party. All of his social troubles were catalyzed with the fact that his parents were never home. They always had somewhere to go, whither it'd be to their vacation house in Puerto Rico, or their summer loft in Vail, Colorado. Both of which Brooklyn had visited, once, when he was nine. His parents were very wealthy but little of the funds trickled down to his level and meant something. If it did, it usually manifested itself in the form of merchandise. Eccentric electronics, brand named clothing, even furniture. One of the few things he actually used was the five hundred dollar leather jacket his parents got him for his birthday, which was currently caked in blood in the trunk. So much for resale value. Brooklyn never cared for the materialistic views his parents tried to bestow upon him, nor the girls they tried to get him to meet. It was like a medieval nightmare when they started inviting their friends over, along with their daughters. Like some absurd charade in order to make peace with the neighboring kingdom. Brooklyn shook his head slightly, trying to jar the disappointing and embarrassing memory out of his head. He looked to the right of the window he was practically staring holes in. Amarillo was peering out of her window at all the snow and trees. The boy thought of all the questions he wanted to ask her, about her shoulder, and about what happened the last time they were in this vehicle. However he couldn't summon enough courage to confront her about these topics.

"Hey guys. You wanna' make another stop in the next town or just keep going?" Havana question the occupants in the back seat.

"It's good we can keep-"

"I'd like to stop." Amarillo interrupted Brooklyn as she swung her head toward the driver, unaware that she just stuffed his opinion back in his mouth. The girl looked at the boy next to her, who had his eyes fixed on her. "Have you been staring at me?"

Brooklyn didn't blink at first, but as Amber's voice faded from sound he jarred himself alert "Wha- No, no I wasn't. Why would I be? Staring? Pfft."

"Then what are you looking at me for?"

"I - uh - I." The boy turned and leaned back in his seat then shrugged at the girl "Nothing, just hangin' out. Um, how about you? _Who_ are you, doing? I meant how! How are you. I mix that up sometimes, a lot. Switch the W and the H. They're close in the alphabet. . . Wait. No they're not. I'll just, shut up now. Yeeah. " He stumbled for an explanation.

Amarillo giggled as she continued to look back at Brooklyn "I'm fine."

Havana turned up the radio, a sly grin on her face.

"I don't want to lose your love, toniiight." The song blurted over the speakers, followed by classic eighties beats and melodies.

"Oh, that's, good-" Brooklyn confronted Havana, obviously distracted by the music. "The Outfield? Seriously?"

The woman put her right hand in the air "Hey, I thought it would be nice. . . for you two." She spoke the last part under her breath.

* * *

The group had now pulled into a Shell gas station. While the girl's went into the store to restock on supplies Brooklyn stood by the gas pump. He eyed up and down the rural road, his mind at ease and soothed by the quaint surroundings. He lazily looked to the left at the field that spanned off in the distance. Water towers were the only things that stood over the horizon, no buildings in sight. It was a nice, if not odd, change of pace for this awkward city boy. His mind then turned to more serious things, such as what happened between him and Amarillo.

"Hey, Amarillo. I wanted to ask you something." He rehearsed to himself. "No. . . Oh hey, Amarillo. I wanted to talk to you, about what happened."

He shook his head in distain and readjusted his stance. He favored a more direct posture, with his right leg standing forward and his body slightly leaned back.

"Amarillo." Brooklyn said in a fake Antonio Banderas accent "I wanted to speak with you, about what happened. . ." He cut the accent and formulated a new one "No, that's not it. . . 'Eh, Amarillo, I wanted to talk to joo about sum-thin'. . ."

The kid sighed and yet again fixed his posture, leaning forward this time. Before he could try his new words the gas nozzle clicked, signifying it was done pumping. He grabbed the instrument and pulled it out of the gas cap.

"Amarillo. I really want to talk to you about something-"

"What do you want to talk about?" The girl Brooklyn rehearsed for stood directly in front of him as he turned to return the pump.

"Oh, uh-" The kid grabbed the back of his neck with his free hand.

_Here it was, time to man up and get it off your chest Dan. Time to get the answers you want directly._

"I wanted to talk, about. . . The gas - o - line." Brooklyn sputtered chunks of words out.

_I really hate myself sometimes. . ._

Amarillo stood still, her head cocked to the side in confusion. The plastic bag full of food products whipped in the wind as she held on to it.

"I mean, really. Leaded, unleaded, regular. How can someone tell what that means? Like, is there actual lead in there or what?" The boy improvised with his random topic.

The girl's face grew even more confused, but a quirky smirk stretched across her left cheek. Brooklyn clinched tighter on the gas handle he still had in his hand. Amber looked even cuter to the boy with that expression. It lasted for a few more seconds as Brooklyn was captivated by her look at him. He felt something physically tug at his heart. This strange phenomenon hasn't ever happened to him before. New York's mind quickly flashed to the stories of spontaneous combustion in humans. Is this how it feels? Amarillo then stepped past the kid and to the SUV's door. Brooklyn stood in place for a moment before letting out a deep breath, shaking his head in the process. He then balled his fist and slammed it into his chest several times.

"Whoa." He gasped as he exhaled slower than normal.

* * *

The group had disembarked from the gas station about an hour ago. Amarillo had taken the wheel for this round, with Brooklyn in the front seat and Havana sleeping in the back. Snow picked up briefly outside, gently breezing off the windshield. The hum of the engine mixed with the brown and white surroundings made it hard to stay awake, even with a few Red Bull's in the system. Brooklyn sat up in his seat and rubbed his face like a rugged mountain man, which definitely wasn't the case. Amber looked over to the boy who rose from a lull of drowsiness.

"Decided to stay awake with me?" The girl spoke has she looked back to the road.

"Yeah. It gets a little boring after awhile." Brooklyn replied.

"Hmm, well do you want to talk? That can make this ride a little less boring. Or is there a law against talking while in a car?"

The boy smiled "No there's not, I just never really do." He waited for Amarillo to ask a question but nothing came. "Oh, you want me to start off the conversation?"

"Yeeaah." The girl exaggerated the word.

"Ok then. Since your full of all this 'kick ass' training and what not. How come you didn't kick my ass when we first met out in the desert?"

"I did shoot at you, remember."

"Oh yes, how could I forget. . ." Brooklyn lowered his eyes to his feet as he recalled the terrifying moment.

"I thought you were a zombie, and as a rule, you never get close enough to punch a zombie."

"Actually, I beg to differ."

"Ok, but not willingly."

Brooklyn stared at Amber blankly.

"You're crazy. Anyway, I thought you were a zombie and that's why I fired."

"Fair enough. However I tend to want to see what I intend to kill before I actual go about killing it." New York poked at the girl's inexperience.

"Come on Brook. I had no idea anyone was left besides me and a few others. Let alone meeting another human being in a desert."

"Did you just call me Brook? That's a girl's name."

"Oh, sorry. Did I just bruise your 'manliness'?" She joked.

Brooklyn dropped his jaw and hunched his shoulders "Ouch, that hurt."

"Get used to it." Amber continued to joke at the lack of the boy's manhood.

"Rub it in why don't ya'. . ." New York leaned to place his elbow on the window seal.

"It's true! You're not really one with a macho-alpha male complex," Amarillo paused to turn the steering wheel with the road "But that's not a bad thing. . . It's kinda' cute."

Brooklyn turned his head to the last bit of that sentence. He smiled ever so slightly as his face began to turn the tiniest bit pink. He watched as the girl grinned at her own words, her eyes still fixated on the asphalt in front of the vehicle. The air returned to the hum of wind blowing past the exterior of the car. Brooklyn chewed over what Amarillo said. Maybe she wasn't out of his league, and maybe he wasn't at the bottom rung of the relationship ladder. However he tamed these thoughts that floated in his head, knowing that he had no experience in this subject or how to even interpret it. Although never one to admit it, Brooklyn was a hopeless romantic with a bleeding heart. He never gave in to the scientific approach to relationships and dating. Such as instinct and physical attraction based on survival. He still believed in "true love" and "love at first sight" even "destiny". There was always a felling of underlying guilt for holding on to such fairy tale prophecies. Most of which dealt a great deal in him unable to date a single girl, even when he turned nineteen. He always waited for fate to bring him together with someone. If a zombie apocalypse was fate's way of bringing him and Amber together, fate has a sick, sick mind. Brooklyn felt something between him and Amber, kind of like him and Rachel back when things were "right", or today's definition of "right". Only this time, he was fairly sure that Amber felt the same way, but he didn't dare to tell of it even if his thoughts were true.

* * *

Another ten minutes past of cruising down what should be the remnants of route sixty-six. The snow continued to fall the same way it had been, silently and gracefully. Upon coming up to a large plain of concrete and asphalt New York squinted his eyes. On a hill was a church with a large parking lot that extended to the road they were traveling on. In the lot was a zombie crouched over a corpse. The Suburban drove closer to the undead as the SUV followed the road. Brooklyn turned his head as he eyed the zombie pass by. It was a zombie-preacher in all black with a white collar, snacking on a man who had a sign draped over him like a classic doomsayer in LA. The sign read "There is no god! All will perish!".

"It's a tie between irony and poetic justice. . ." Brooklyn commented on the scene. As the boy looked up to the church he saw two more zombies wandering aimlessly, their only guidance was the outside wall of the church itself. The SUV quickly gained distance from the key location in the foresty middle of no where. New York turned his head to Amarillo, wanting to talk to her some more.

"You mentioned something about a few others being alive, what did you mean by that?" He broke the smooth soundtrack of dull hums.

Amber quickly glanced at the boy "Yeah. I ran with some other survivors before I met you."

"Who were they?"

"A guy who was headed to Sacramento and another girl who was going to the same place." The girl turned her body slightly to Brooklyn. "That's how I got this." She brought her hand to her wounded shoulder.

"Jesus, what happened?" The boy questioned in shock.

"The guy was a little unstable, mentally. After about three days of traveling with him he asked me to do something I wasn't going to do."

"Wow. . . What did he ask you to do?"

"He wanted me to kill the other girl."

New York leaned closer to Amarillo "What the hell!? Why?"

"I don't know why, to prove my loyalty to him or something. I told him I would never do it, so he shot me. He did it quickly so he didn't have enough time to aim. I just pretended to be dead as I bled on the floor of that fast food restaurant we stayed in. When he left I got up and ran for my life. I don't know what happened to the other girl. . . And I don't want to."

Brooklyn made an effort to keep eye contact as Amber lowered her gaze "That's, horrible. Where did you go after that?"

"I ran until I found a working car. Then patched myself up. After a day of driving, I met you."

"No wonder you shot at me. You thought I was that sick man." The boy whispered as he made sense of what happened. Amber nodded slightly as a tear fell from her eye. The shock of truth Brooklyn put together startled her. That was the reason she shot at him, the fact that he managed to discover the underlying truth startled Amarillo. That kind of empathy could only be found in a psychiatrists office after weeks of getting to know the patient. The flash of falling water caught Brooklyn's eye. He leaned to the girl and grabbed her hand, squeezing it slightly.

She turned her palm to hold his hand then she looked into Brooklyn's eyes. "I'm glad I missed."

* * *

_Turns out, the reason Amarillo was bleeding so badly back in Tulsa was due to her actually pushing the bullet out the other side of her shoulder with her finger. Whatever that guy shot her with, it must have been a weak caliber round, thankfully. Talk about one tough human being. Rambo shit right there. I couldn't even imagine doing that to myself, even to prevent a deadly infection. She's one of a kind._

Brooklyn was now in the driver's seat. The glowing green digits on the dashboard read ten o'clock at night, everything but the large field of light in front of the car stood visible. The stars in the night sky were showing clear as day, even the starry haze of the Milky Way itself. The boy smiled as he watched the display of distant solar systems through the moon roof. The snow below sparkled faintly from the mixture of starlight and moonlight.

"At least we don't have Reapers to deal with." He sighed in self-content.

"What are you talking about white boy?" Havana blurted in confusion.

"Oh nothing. So how do you like all the stars? Beautiful right?"

". . . Do you want me to beat your bitch ass again?" The woman responded to more of the kid's nonsense.

"No I'm good. My bitch ass is fine for now."

"Good." Havana grinned at her new surroundings in the front seat. She was stuck in the euphoric state of happiness, the kind you get after waking up from a long nap. "I'm just teasing you anyway. The stars don't concern me. It's what's under them that I have to worry about."

"Yeah, but you have to enjoy some things in life." Brooklyn tried to come to a mutual understanding.

"Fast cars, good sex, and poppin' heads from a mile out. That's what I like." The woman kicked her feet up on the dashboard as she pulled out a stick of gum from the cup holder.

"Yes, very creepy." New York commented in a reserved tone.

"What, you disagree?"

"No, I love blastin' caps a mile out! You kiddin' me? Do it all the time, from my backyard, in the Hamptons." Brooklyn elaborated sarcastically.

"No I mean the second opinion in the list."

"Oh, that. Yeah! All that, in my backyard in the Hamptons. I'm a modern day Casanova up in that, shit. Yeah."

"Pfft! Whatever! You could barely navigate your way through the sheets." Havana broke out in a sharp laugh.

"Ok. Awkward picture right there. Fairly insulting. Alright." Brooklyn nodded silently "But I like how you used 'navigate'. Adds texture to the sentence."

Havana stared at the boy in distain before she let a swift punch strike his arm.

"Ouch! I meant it in a good way! Let's not resort to physical violence." He reacted as he rubbed his upper arm.

"Now, try it on me." The woman coaxed.

"Are you insane? I'm driving!"

"Yea, and doing a horrible job at it." Havana pointed out the front window.

"Oh shit!" New York yelped as he jerked the steering wheel to the left. Just feet from running off the road.

The woman motioned her hands toward her, taunting. "C'mon, now's your chance for revenge. You want it? Come get it."

"This is going to have a harsh reprisal. . ." Brooklyn sighed before he slung a punch at Havana. The Ex-Ranger quickly deflected the boy's punch to the side. With that his neck was left exposed, the woman took that advantage. She opened her thumb and hand into an "L" shape and rammed it around Brooklyn's throat.

"Hack! Shit!" He began coughing loudly "Friggin' ass child abuse!"

Havana watched as New York recovered from the blow "Come on, it was only thirty percent power! The very fact you can still talk right now proves it."

The kid shook his head as he held on to his neck with both hands. The vehicle began to veer to the right without any direction. A few coughs sounded before the Suburban violently jetted into the air. The front tires had slammed into an embankment, tossing snow and dark clumps of dirt into the air. Brooklyn lifted out of his seat, the only thing keeping him from busting out through the roof was his seatbelt. Havana's legs bounced off of the dashboard and landed into the leg space below, her seatbelt was fastened as well. The only one who didn't have a seatbelt on was Amarillo, who was sleeping in the backseat. At this precise moment she was exactly parallel with the front seat headrests, having just rebounded from hitting the ceiling. New York grabbed the wheel in front of him and diligently turned the out of control mass of metal onto the road.

"Christ! Is everything alright?! Is anything broken?!" Brooklyn frantically looked in every direction as he checked on things. Havana was practically crying with laughter as she went through the surreal experience of owning Brooklyn, flying six feet off the ground, then watching the poor boy react as if a bomb just went off. Figuratively speaking of course.

"What the hell just happen! Amarillo?!" New York looked to the back to see no one in the seat "Shit! Amarillo! Amarillo!?"

He put his hand down to the floor board of the backseat to feel a warm body. "Amarillo? . . . Amarillo! Fuck! Are you alright!?"

"She's probably unconscious!" Havana managed to exclaim through tears of laughter. Brooklyn wrapped his head around his seat as best he could to check on the girl. Then he whipped around to make sure the same thing didn't happen to the car again. He shot a glance to the woman next to him. Brooklyn did a quick double take to examine her expression one more time. Now that it was clear she was dieing over sadistic laughing fits, New York lowered in his seat. A big frown on his face. A full minute and a half past as Brooklyn continued to disapprove greatly of the situation. Havana on the other hand, started clapping as she continued to find the life threatening mess-up humorous. The kid sighed, he was clearly the only conscious mature person in the car.

". . . I wish I didn't know you. . ." He sighed.

Shifting was heard behind Brooklyn's seat. "Uugh. . . What, happened?" Amber finally spoke.

"We took a little spill, ooo-kay? Just a little spill." The boy said tenderly.

"Whu. . . Why is there a chunk missing out of the floor? Why am I even on the floor?"

"You've-got-to-be-shitting-me!" New York's tone became serious as he turned to check on the situation.

"Oh, never mind. It's just a hand mirror on the ground." The drowsy girl dispelled.

"Hoo, I almost shit a brick there for a moment."

"Oh my god." Havana gasped as she put her hand on her mouth, trying not to laugh again.

Brooklyn pointed a finger at the woman "Don't even start with me."


	12. A born Bostonian

"Ok-No. that's not what I said." Brooklyn spoke instructively, trying to calm Havana.

"Yes it is, you specifically said 'Why are you a dyke with an adrenaline addiction'." Havana shouted as she looked from the front of the SUV to the kid on her right.

"That's not what I said-that's not what I said. What I **said** was you're a bit 'man-ish' in your attitude and you have this unquenchable thirst for danger." The boy tried to make his point clear over the blaring voice of the driver.

"Would you quit acting like Vince Vaughn!"

"I'm not acting like Vince Vaughn, this is how I am, this is me. Right now, this is me." New York shuffled his hands in the air.

"Just shut up! You don't know what it's like!"

"What do you mean 'I don't know what it's like'? What's **what** like?"

"Roadside IEDs, snipers, body bombs-"

"Now that's creepy. You're freakin' me out here."

"Mortar attacks, ambushes, suicide bombers-"

"Look, see. Now you're tying two very separate things together. Like backgammon and vicious, killer aliens."

The car went silent for a few precious moments. Brooklyn adjusted in his seat while Havana exhaled for a prolonged amount of time.

"I'm glad we're dealing with this in a civilized manner-" The boy reconciled as he tried to end the argument on a lighter note.

Havana shot a stare at Brooklyn and held it, "Don't tease a tiger with meat and expect not to get bit." She growled to herself.

"-Like two adults settling a dispute." As he finish, Havana quickly slapped him upside the head. "Ouch! . . . And here I was, thinking we were making progress. . ."

The two sat forward and both took a deep breath.

". . . Wow. . ." Amarillo gasped as she sat in the middle seat of the back row, having been listening in on the whole argument. The girl looked left and right at the two fighters in the ring, in disbelief on where the conversation led. The participants took a break from the fight, which was good seeing that they'd been at it for forty-five minutes straight. A ringing sound was left in Amber's ears as the silence took hold of the vehicle. Strangely, something inside the SUV's engine rattled and made an audible unwinding sound. Brooklyn heard the event and looked around, noticing the road slow down outside the windows.

"Ah. . . Shit." Havana sighed as she pumped the accelerator with no results.

"See, what did I say earlier. Karma. That's karma for ya'." The boy gave a quick explanation for the dire turn of events.

"What's wrong with the engine?" Amarillo questioned as the car rolled to a halt.

"Probably because of that hit we took back in Missouri. . . You don't go smashing a driver's larynx whilst they are driving, rule of thumb." The kid turned to Texas "How are you by the way? We soared like ten feet."

"Fine, thanks. . ." Amber grumbled, displeased that it took New York nearly twelve hours to finally ask her how she was post-flight.

"No it's not that. We're out of gas." Havana relayed to the group as she swung the gear into park. "Someone's gotta' look for some."

Brooklyn eyed the woman who leaned back in her seat and glanced at him "Oh no, not me. I filled the tank last time. I- god damn it. . ." He gave up, seeing that the jury wasn't going to rule in his favor.

* * *

_So here we were, in the middle of Indianapolis: Home of the Indianapolis motor speedway and the Colts. Both of which are in ruin now, but it's nice to recall them for what they once were. Kind of like the ruins of Delphi in Greece, only more disturbing. Anyway, I was now on my own, looking for fuel. Minus the bone chilling winds and hordes of zombies, it was kind of nice being by myself again. Alone to wander across this great nation and enjoy the splendors that life has to offer. Which in this case would be running away from a very hungry Peyton Manning, or a zombified Kasey Kahn. . . Go me._

Brooklyn strode forward on the highway, looking in the beds of abandoned trucks and in the windows of broken cars for gas cartons. He had on his black hoodie, zipped up half way in the cold. He skipped from car window to car window, in between obstacle after depressingly useless obstacle as he made progress down the road.

"You'd think people would have stocked up on fuel when news of the outbreak broke. . ." Brooklyn mumbled to himself as he leaned into a van's window, not pleased by the lack of go-go juice. He stepped from the vehicle and down it's side, nothing in it but an eerily empty baby seat and mounds of duct tape. A break in traffic up ahead gave way to open road, which was both a gift and a curse. New York slowed in his pace and pulled at the shoulder strap of his rifle. The cold bit at his ankles as he stepped one foot after the other on the concrete. Snow still covered parts of the grass on the side of the road, it was only going to get colder as they went north. Brooklyn sniffed then rubbed his sleeve across his nose as he looked off in the distance. He thought he was catching a bit of a cold, having had a headache since the cross over from Illinois. That, or it was from the extensive argument he had earlier with Havana. Suddenly a wick of movement caused a sheet of metal to fall behind a semi truck up ahead. The boy swung the M16 from his shoulder and into his arms. His hands fumbling from being startled by the awfully loud and intrusive clanging. Pointing the business end forward he slowly stepped toward the noise. Brooklyn squinted as he raised his head from the stock of the firearm. He stood their trying to examine what caused the ruckus. Finally a zombie stumbled out from behind of the trucks trailer. The kid snapped his cheek down against the stock and fired two shots, the zombie grunted then tumbled to the ground.

"Of course. Why **wouldn't** it be a zombie." The boy passively broke his inquisitive spirit. He lowered the gun from his shoulder and jogged to the large truck. Looking side to side Brooklyn made sure no other zombie would pop out for him. His shoes patted on the cold surface of the road as he came within feet of the trailer. The kid held his rifle pointed inside the large metal container. Checking the contents he came to realize it was a shipment of tuna that had gone bad at one point then froze over.

"Aw. Must have been headed to Chicago." Brooklyn groaned as he caught the slight twinge of rotten fish from the trailer. Stepping from the swung open doors he continued the search for gasoline. Another cluster of abandoned cars to weave in and out of presented itself several feet after the trailer. The boy navigated through the steel maze with dull hesitation. Brooklyn rolled his shoulders forward as he pressed on. Narrowing his eyes in disdain at the prospect of more time out in the open.

* * *

Keeping his head low New York walked even further along the road. He managed to travel about two miles from the Suburban on his quest. He had now set foot on the overpass that stretched over a highway several tens of feet below. Brooklyn's stomach grumbled as he passed another semi truck on the overpass. He had forgotten to eat breakfast this morning, having been preoccupied arguing with a certain female with "masculine" tendencies. The bridge abruptly lurched down a few inches before it seemed to bounce back up., settling in it's default position.

"Whoooa. . ." Brooklyn cautiously sounded as he looked down at the road. He paused dead still in his tracks, his head only slightly pivoted to see what just transpired. A can began rolling down the street line toward the boy. He eyed the extent of the overpass before he watched the can in yet another inquisitive stare. It picked up speed as it rolled from several yards out. The low revolving purr of the can grew louder in the deafly silent outskirts of the city. Brooklyn lifted the tip of his shoe up as the can stopped under his foot. He rolled his shoe over the can until the tip of his Converse slid under. Then he kicked the metal brick into the air and snatched it with his right hand. He examined the label to find out it was a can of baked beans.

"Charming. . ." He sighed before tossing the container behind his shoulder. As the can of beans plopped on the ground the bridge shifted down again. Brooklyn shot his arms out from his sides as he braced for the tremor. The Lexus next to him began rolling backwards toward the way he came. Then another car slowly rolled in the same fashion, picking up the slightest amount of speed. The boy turned his upper body to see what was going on with the overpass. There was a large break where the road connected with the actual hillside yards behind him. A large amount of cars piled up on that end adding pressure to the stress point. A sedan rammed it's trunk into the side of a beige van, the alarm began to sound off wildly.

"You gotta' be kiddin' me." Brooklyn whispered to himself as he realized the overpass was about to fall to the highway below. In an instant the boy bolted for the other side, holding the stock of his M16 against his side. More vehicles began rolling backwards adding more force to the deteriorating bridge. A metallic snap sounded before the road slanted even further than before.

"Oh shit!" New York yelled before stumbling to the ground. He stuffed his palm in the ground to catch himself. The sting of the abrasive asphalt grinding into his hand throbbed as he gained his balance. The disturbing shrill of brakes giving way screamed in the air. Ahead of Brooklyn was an armored car at the cusp of abiding gravities law. The boy's eyes opened wide in the spilt second of realization that it will soon be coming at him. Another shriek belted into the air before the hulking truck tore loose.

"Son of a -!" The boy shouted before he dove out of the way of the armored vehicle. The truck steamed by the puny kid, obliterating the space he just previously occupied. The overpass bent to a thirty degree angle while Brooklyn laid on the ground, he was only halfway across the falling connector. He scrambled to his feet and sprinted up the terrifying slope. His feet pounded over and over at the bending asphalt, each step came closer and closer to survival. Now three fourths the way across, Brooklyn panted for air. He shot a glance behind him to see the semi truck he was standing by only seconds ago flip on its side and strike the ever increasing wall.

"Haw-shit!" He gasped as he caught a glimpse of his fate if he failed to reach the other side. Another creak in the support beams echoed as the weight on the other end grew. Brooklyn lengthened his steps to compensate for the steep angle as he climbed higher. Just a few more feet to go and he would be safe. New York leapt with unsung agility to the top, over the last few inches of falling ground. His side crashed against the flat surface of the apposing hill. The rifle on his back scraped against the road and sparked slightly as he slid. Brooklyn's legs were burning from the climb, his heart roaring in his chest at five thousand miles per minute.

"H-ho. Too close." New York sighed, relieved that he made it across. He sat up to watch the rest of the overpass crumble to the ground below. The noise of the falling concrete and metal was unforgiving to the ears. The ground rumbled as the manmade construction disintegrated into raw material. Brooklyn draped his arm over his knee as he caught his breath.

"Don't - Move." A male voice spoke, just before the sound of a gun being pointed at the back of the boy's head.

"Fuck me. . ." Brooklyn gasped for both words and air as he complied with the voice.

* * *

"So what are you doing out here? Sight seeing?" New York tried to talk to the unknown man behind him, who had been guiding him down the interstate for several minutes.

"You're pretty confident in front of a gun, kid." The man commented.

"Well you know, I've had experience."

"Yeah, make sure it won't be your last experience before you start coping an attitude. At least you're not a zombie, and definitely not a raider." The man lifted the gun from Brooklyn's head. "Turn around."

The boy slowly spun around to get a look at his captor. The unknown man had on white pants and a white blazer. Under the blazer he had on a black undershirt, it's collar popped out over the jacket's. His nice black leather shoes stepped forward a few inches before they stood in place. Brooklyn lifted his eyes to the man's face. He had semi-long dark brown almost black hair that was brushed back, he looked like someone famous.

"Pfft, who are you suppose to be? A rock star?" Brooklyn smirked at the man's attire.

"Hey, it was party night before shit hit the fan. So can it." The man held out his right hand. "Name's Boston."

"No shit? Brooklyn." The boy shook Boston's hand. The man signaled Brooklyn to walk forward and the two did.

"So why exactly are you out here by yourself?" Boston questioned.

"I'm not. I have two other friends waiting for me to find gas-"

"Wait, so there are others with you? Are they watching us?"

"Probably. Knowing Havana, she most likely has her crosshairs trained right on your head." Brooklyn lifted his hand in front of Boston's face, then he threw a thumbs up.

* * *

"Ooh, he's good. Dorky, but good." Havana narrowed her eyes at the sight of Brooklyn's hand in her scope.

* * *

The boy continued to make hand gestures in front of Boston's face. A peace sign, a Hawaiian shaka sign, followed by a Vulcan salute all made Brooklyn's point clear.

"Are you done yet?" The man question before swatting the hand out of his face.

"I think she believes you're friendly now."

"No shit?" Boston said sarcastically.

* * *

_Now I'm not one to pass judgment on anyone, but this Boston guy seems pretty alright. For once the balance of estrogen and testosterone had been restored in my immediate area. Normally the type of clique Boston belongs to is the one that shows up at parties with three or four other guys of similar maturity levels and throw mattresses' off rooftops, and worst of all, hit on your mom when she hosts the party. . . That was a little too much information. . . Anyway, he's a pretty cool guy in the time that I got to know him. Also he had plenty of gas for me to bring back to the group. I invited him along for the journey since we were all headed up north. Needless to say Havana didn't appreciate my course of action. But knowing what's ahead, we could use all the help we can get. . . I'm pretty sure she gave me the death stare though, and she didn't say a word for hours._

Inside the now functional SUV, all remained quiet. No arguments or mechanical failures, not even the sound of a hand slapping into anyone's head. Neither female in the group particularly cared for Boston, seeing him as a bit of a posh egotistical slob. In his first impression he didn't leave a good imprint. He came across as such mostly in part by entitling himself to the entire backseat of the car, and a fair amount of Amarillo's wine. Outside it was now turning dark, the Suburban's headlights spotting out nickel sized snowflakes drifting to Earth. Brooklyn was subtly exiled by the girls to the very back of trunk, next to the bomb and various articles of clothing and bags of food. The kid sat with his legs across the floor eating a bag of chips and a bowl of instant noodles that were less instant and more just plain soggy noodles in cold water. He innocently looked out of the rear window in content, enjoying his barely feasible dinner. Amarillo climbed from the front seat to the back of the SUV. She stretched over the very unconscious and very inebriated Boston, placing her right leg over the car seat. Amber plopped herself next to Brooklyn, her legs folding in on each other.

"Hey." She greeted.

"Sup." The boy nodded as he stirred his noodles.

"How is that?"

"This? It's alright. I forgot to put the flavoring in it before adding water."

"Bummer." She sighed empathetically. "You know you could just put it in now."

"Yeah, but it's cheese flavor. I mean really, cheese flavored noodles? When was that alright?"

"Ever since they came up with it I guess. Are you not a noodle aficionado?" Amarillo question humorously.

"Well I mean I've had them, just not actually **had** them, had them." New York turned to the girl, shrugging with a unknowing smirk. "Let's just say I've never had them in the 'ready for space travel' variety."

Amber giggled as Brooklyn held up the microwaveable Styrofoam cup. "Not even Ramen?"

New York merely sat there blinking, not knowing what Ramen was altogether, or if it was even edible.

"You haven't had Ramen?!" Amarillo leaned down in a strange hunch and looked at Brooklyn slyly "You're a noodle virgin, aren't you?"

A stunned look was plastered on the boy's face "I - don't - know. . . Are you?"

"Well, I asked you first. But seeing that you're eating noodles now. . . Have **you** ever **had** Ramen?"

"What do you mean by Ramen?"

With a chance to pry into Brooklyn's life, Amber inferred something else into the question. Something a little more, "personal".

"You know. Ra-men." The girl gave a dirty look, trying to imply something else.

"Ramen? I need some details if I can answer your question. Like, I mean what does it look like? I haven't even heard of Ramen before. Hence the blank stare." Brooklyn replied utterly oblivious.

The girl smirked as she watched the boy's eyes, shaking her head slightly. "Have you?"

"I don't know. Have you ever had Ra-men?" He returned.

"You can't do that! I asked first!" Amarillo called foul.

"I just did, and now I'm asking."

"Ok then. I might have, I might not. Who knows." She grinned.

"That doesn't answer much. I don't see what the big deal is. It's just a package of damn noodles. A simply yes or no would do." Brooklyn pressed.

"I almost had it. I didn't like the flavor it came in at the time. Now you. Have you had a big, steaming bowl of hot Ramen?" Amber elaborated, trying to get Brooklyn on the same page she was.

"Was it the cheese flavor? I bet it was, that stuff just sounds nasty. Or beef! I tried that flavor packet last time and it was bad. It tasted like it was trying too hard and was just plain salty." He rambled on.

Amarillo sighed at Brooklyn's difficulty to get the picture "So. . . You haven't had **it**?"

"Uh, not that I recall it wasn't Ramen. I think it was Mr. Noodles. Just like this, only a different flavor."

"Hmm. . . So you **are **a virgin?"

"A noodle virgin? Look, there are more noodles than just these 'Ramen', you know, like Italian noodles. I've had lots of noodles but they didn't come in a ration sealed bag." The boy shrugged again. "But I digress, what flavors do you like?"

Amarillo sighed once more and began shifting things around to lay down "I'm not sure yet. . ."

"There's a whole lot of flavors in my sack if you want to try them. I mean they're not Ramen but, what's one flavor packet to another?" Brooklyn, still stupendously oblivious offered. He scooped some more noodles out of his bowl. He shrugged at the displeased body language Amber gave him as her flirtatious comments were over looked.

"Oh. . ." New York finally caught on. He swallowed the last mouthful of noodles carefully, his cheeks flushed red as a surprised frown crossed his face. He stared down at the foam bowl in his hand and gently set it on top of the tarp covered bomb. Unaware of the water and noodles spilling in between the SUV's wall and down the back of the tarp Brooklyn stared forward. He glanced slightly over to Amarillo who was pretending to curl up and go to sleep to the right of him. He could almost see the grin beaming from Amber's lips as he pulled the collar of his shirt slightly. Brooklyn felt quite embarrassed by his unaware comments and failure to notice what she was implying. He felt the urge to speak up about it but didn't. Like it would matter, all the answers he gave were depressingly true anyway. Then his mind shot to the last words he spoke, about his sack full of flavoring. He closed his eyes in sheer embarrassment and shook his head. He had just offered Amarillo to try his noodles by her definition, unaware that it was even her definition to start off with. what a completely corny and dirty thing to say.


	13. Depreciating appreciation

_So there we were, in the middle of Columbus Ohio, population - Zero. And by zero I mean in number of people left __**and**__ degrees. Due to yet another set of car troubles we had to split up in this god forsaken patch of once was and could have been. But sadly, these weren't the kind of troubles that could just be fixed by a wrench or some viscous liquid we could dump into it. No, it was snow, mounds and mounds of it. Without proper equipment, and living people to operate that equipment, the city's streets clogged with snow up to the traffic lights. Our mission now was to find a usable vehicle on the other side of the city. Boston and I headed east while Amarillo and Havana went northeast with our car, covering the ground we had missed along the way. Due to the subsequent lack of getting anything done on wheels in the streets, the girls took the highway, while Boston and I did most of the searching inside the city._

Brooklyn stood next to the group's black house on wheels, grappling yet again with his hoodie. As he toiled with the article of clothing Amarillo stepped from the trunk of the SUV and eyed the boy.

"Goofing off again?" She smiled, black leather folded over her arms.

"Huh-?" He looked up from his chest "It's a little difficult to get on."

"That wasn't what I asked. Here, try this." Amber held the leather jacket forward. New York looked over the jacket, the blood stains had vanished from it entirely.

"You cleaned it?" Brooklyn asked as his hand grabbed onto the sleeve.

"Mhm, the blood was dry so all I had to do was scrape it off."

"W-wow. You actually took the time to clean this for me?"

Amarillo rolled back on her heels, her mind flashing to the few minutes prior when she frantically scratched the blood off the jacket. "It took a couple hours."

"Thank you." The kid smirked, his eyes looking into the pair staring back at him. The two stood silent for a moment, soaking one another's feelings in. Boston peered from the back of the Suburban, arching his back to get a better view.

"Yo, Jersey shore. You ready to get the fuck outta' here?" Boston shouted.

Brooklyn shook his head, shaking off the silence, as if it were shards of glass falling off his shoulders. "Yeah. . . And it's Brooklyn." The boy said the last part in a faint tone of retaliation, the kind that reluctantly ushers itself forth well after the point of relevance. He then shot one more glance into the blue-green orbs that were still fixed upon him, clenching the jacket's sleeve in his hand.

"I, uh, got to get going. Time to hit that old dusty trail."

Amarillo chuckled slightly as she shook her head. "Right, **dusty** trail."

Brooklyn jogged after the other male, slipping his arm into the jacket. "You know what I meant!" He shouted back.

* * *

_As I was saying, Boston and I were in the heart of Columbus, trying to navigate through it. About an hour in to our frosty journey. . . We only got about twenty feet._

Brooklyn stumbled through the knee high snow, holding his assault rifle close to his chest. Ahead of him was Boston who stepped on a hidden plateau of high ground. The man tossed his revolver in his left hand and held his right to the boy behind him. Brooklyn looked up and grabbed the offered help.

"Thanks." The kid nodded, planting a foot on the ledge.

"No prob." Boston replied before turning to their heading.

New York dusted off the legs of his jeans, knocking clumps of snow to the ground. He galloped next to his well dressed partner, looking out into the distance.

"This place got mad bombed." Brooklyn commented as he eyed the large buildings around them. Chunks were missing out of the towering structures, scorch marks marring whatever wasn't covered in snow.

"Yeah, serious shit went down here." Boston agreed. The two slogged forward through the white nightmare that surrounded their ankles. Eventually Brooklyn's feet leveled out over the snow as the sidewalk rose. The kid shifted his eyes to the ground on his left. A stair railing peaked several inches out of the snow, frozen solid with a two inch thick plating of ice. He gave a quizzical sigh at the sight, noticing that they had just walked up a flight of stairs without realizing it. Brooklyn looked forward to see Boston further in front of him than before. He picked up his stride to a low jog. Brooklyn caught up several feet behind Boston, his attention still at the buildings above. Unaware that the man had stopped walking, the boy stepped one inch too far.

"Whoa-!" Brooklyn yelled briefly before sinking into the snow. His legs slid straight into the white powder, stopping at the top of his waist.

"Hey, I gottcha' I gottcha'." Boston reassured as he grabbed the collar of the boy's hoodie and shirt.

"Shit that is cold. . ." Brooklyn grumbled as the cold material wrapped in between his legs. The man holstered his sidearm and grabbed onto the kid with both hands. He lifted New York out of the snow then dragged him to the elevated concrete. Brooklyn quickly stood up and shook off the residual snow.

"Alright, we're not getting anywhere down here." Boston eyed the buildings looming over their heads "Let's head up there."

The boy lifted his head up to see what was being referred to "Are you sure about that? That's basically like standing in the same spot distance wise, only we'd be moving upwards."

"You'd rather fall through the snow and get a dollar twenty-five colonoscopy from a parking meter?" Boston said before walking to the building's entrance.

"Yeah, good point. . ." Brooklyn looked back at the hole he created in the snow, checking for any meters before trotting after his partner.

* * *

The two hurried up the stairwell in the building, halfway exhausted from going nonstop up eight floors.

"How tall is this thing?" Boston questioned, one eye shut as he inhaled heavily from his mouth.

"I donno, why don't you ask the guys that built this damn thing." Brooklyn remarked sarcastically.

"Yea, very funny."

"I'm just sayin'. Don't ask a stupid question if you don't want a sarcastic response."

"So you really are from Brooklyn? Damn city kid." Boston changed the subject, jabbing at the kid's somewhat hostile personality.

"Noo -I'm- from the Bronx. What are you implying?"

"You got this chip on your shoulder, like most of the people from there."

"Yeah, well you don't get props for sittin' around getting run over by everybody." The boy explained.

Boston smirked while he stepped up a few more stairs. "Bet you can't hold that attitude when you're talking to the ladies."

Brooklyn stopped at the top of the flight, looking back at the man "Ok, I'd like to know why **everything **comes back to that topic."

"Maybe because you're a brooding teenager that's life revolves around those kind of things?" Boston shrugged.

"Sure. . ." New York stepped up the last flight of stairs then turned to the door leading to the roof "How 'bout you go first."

The man shook his head in amusement before placing his left arm on the doors push handle, his right hand on his revolvers grip, then he nodded at the boy. Brooklyn brought his M16 to his shoulder with the barrel pointed to the floor then nodded back.

"It's push, by the way." The kid reminded. With one motion Boston opened the door and pulled out his pistol. Brooklyn stepped toward the opening while raising the rifle forward, attempting to breach through the door. Before he could even set foot outside the boy was caught and scrunched in the doorway.

"God damn it's cold out there!" Boston shouted as he shut the door on his partner.

"Ack! Son of a bitch!" Brooklyn yelled in short bursts as the door pinned him in the gap. He looked to the designated door opener with half his right leg and firearm sticking out of the doorway.

"Smooth. . ." He muttered at the man. Then Brooklyn shoved the door open and walked out.

"Wasn't expecting that kind of blast of cold." Boston disclaimed. "-You scuffed my shoe!" He exclaimed as he looked to his footwear.

"Get over it, mine cost more than yours anyway, now get out here."

Boston, who was still standing in the door stepped out onto the rooftop next to Brooklyn. The boy raised his arm as a barrier from the cold in front of his face. Gritting his teeth New York stepped forward into the cold swirl of wind and snowflakes. The clouds seemed to be mere feet above their heads as both looked out on the city. A thick mixture of snow and sleet blew through the air, making it impossible to see out in the distance. All color was sapped from vision in the nasty weather, even Brooklyn's hands looked gray.

"I wish we had picked a better date to travel here instead in the middle of a fucking blizzard." Boston grumbled as he squinted his eyes. Brooklyn scanned the top of the building, a black silhouette stood a few yards away.

"Shit! I got something!" The kid shouted as he leveled his rifle at the unknown entity. He stared at it for a while down the gun's sights, but it didn't move. Brooklyn lowered his weapon and leaned forward with his eyes narrowed.

"Bastard's frozen." Boston commented as he walked toward it, not even a hint of caution in his stride. New York followed, his head tilted at the odd scene. It was a male zombie frozen in place. It looked like it was standing there looking down for some time before it froze solid. The man moved closer to it with his arm held out.

"Wait-wait-wait. I got an idea." Brooklyn smiled before stepping back, holding his rifle in one hand. He rolled his shoulders forward then stretched his neck side to side.

New York then assumed a slightly leaned back position with a look of disdain on his face. ". . . Madness? This - Is - !"

"Rick James bi-otch!" Boston suddenly screamed as he heaved his shoulder into the frozen zombie. The less than amazing statue snapped at the claves, flinging forward off to the maelstrom of ice and snow below. Brooklyn stumbled forward, having just thrown a botched high kick that was aimed at the now nonexistent zombie-sicle. The boy reeled up to a stand as he looked in dismay at the two lower legs remaining on the roof.

"Dude! You fucked it all up!" Brooklyn shouted as he held his arms out.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" Boston looked back at the kid while he stepped back from the edge, a hotshot look plastered on his face.

"I didn't kiss my mother-but that's beside the point." New York took in a deep breath. "Seriously though, man! That would have been zombie kill of the week!"

"You actually follow those posters? Most of them can **not** depict their kill worth shit." Boston switched topics yet again.

"Hey, those markers are hard to draw with." Brooklyn raised an index finger at the man in explanation.

"Really, you think so? I saw a poster were someone used pastels, so don't gimmie that." Boston countered.

"Why am I even talking to you? You just shattered one of my dreams just now!" The boy brought the conversation back on track.

"**Puh**-**lease**! That's over done anyway, didn't you use the internet?"

"How often does one actually get the chance to kick someone off a skyscraper? Ever even?" Brooklyn flailed his arms around as he expressed his anger.

"I promise, next one is yours." Boston rolled his hands forward, bestowing his gift upon New York.

"Oh, like these conditions are ever going to occur ag-" The boy stopped as a loud shot cracked through the air. Both males dropped their heads into their shoulders as they looked below for where the shot came from. Brooklyn looked to the highway off to the right to see a black bar with two smaller black dots beside it.

"Check it." The boy pointed down, realizing that it was Havana and Amarillo.

"Hey look, it's the girlies. I'm surprised they actually made it that far."

"You shouldn't say that." Brooklyn turned to Boston.

"Relax kid, it's not like they can hear us." The man lifted his arms, waving them in the air. "Heeey! How's the traffic?" He shouted down below. New York pinched the bridge of his nose as he shook his head in embarrassment.

"Hey. . . Is Havana aiming a gun at us?" Boston mumbled as he leaned forward to get a better look. "Wait no, I think she's eating somethi-" Before the man could finish his sentence something smashed into the concrete wall below their feet followed by another loud crack of noise.

"Shit!" Boston yelled as he leapt away from the ledge.

"Wh-!" Brooklyn looked to the frightened man then down to the two girls "You could have shot me too! Y-you know!" He exclaimed with a shaky voice. Below Havana lowered her rifle then slung it in the backseat of the SUV. Amarillo looked to be flapping her arms about in anger, giving Havana an ear full. That, or she was chopping wood with a small hand axe, it was hard to tell from this distance.

"I feel under appreciated right now. . ." Brooklyn sighed.

"Hoo! Shit! Am I shot! Am I shot!" Boston squirmed in the snow as he checked for bullet wounds frantically.

"Relax man, you're not shot." The kid stepped closer to the still gyrating man.

"E-easy for you to say! Mister big city hoodie n' jacket combo."

Brooklyn looked down to his outfit "What's wrong with my hoodie and jacket combo. . . ?"

As the two patted themselves down for two very separate reasons a screeching sound shrieked out into the cold, hollow air followed by a slight rumble.

"That wasn't a good sound." The kid stood still, wide eyed by the phenomenon. As he held his arms out in a fake sense of balance the rooftop began rattling violently. Brooklyn looked up to the horizon to see it tilting, his left side beginning to face toward the ground.

"I don't like where this is going!" He yelled as he whipped his head to the left, the adjacent growing closer. The building top the two were standing on was collapsing to one side, poised to strike into the neighboring skyscraper. Both males began cursing while they swiftly scrambled to not be the first objects to smack into the side of the other structure. The roof slowly gained momentum as it peeled away from the parent half that was connecting it to the earth. Snow began rushing around Brooklyn as he fell to one knee.

"We're going to hit the other building! Hang on!" Boston yelled as he picked his partner up by the elbow. The two ran for the door they came from, hoping it could grant protection from certain doom.

"Grab it! Grab it!" Boston again roared as New York held his arms out for the swung open door. With a final step Brooklyn caught hold of the door handle and held on for dear life. Not far after Boston did the same on the handle on the opposite side of the red door. Both looked down as their feet slipped away from the roof, now they were suspended in air. The far edge of the building now had enough momentum to barrel toward the seventh and eighth floors of the other office building. What was suppose to be straight horizontally was now at a forty-five degree angle and growing. The half of the structure became totally separated from it's base. Metal beams and girders clashed and tore loose from the bottom of the half, concrete sheering off all over. Brooklyn quickly shot a glance at the two frozen calves that were holding fast on the ledge, seemingly undaunted. A moment of absolute clarity washed over Brooklyn as he stared at those two zombie nubs. The hellish scream and roar of the breaking building stopped, his ears flooded with absolute silence.

"Oh Shiit!" Both screamed simultaneously as they watched the building they were still on top of obliterate itself into to the side of the other one. The final image of the roof crushing into itself flashed into Brooklyn's mind like the last picture in a photo album, then, complete darkness.


	14. Steel valley restoration company

Smoke and debris spread into the sky, with a gentle grace that could never warrant an event of such horror. It was almost as if gravity forgot to act upon the floating wreckage that was cascading away from the build it was once holding together. With one last stare at what was the upper half of a building propped up only by another, Amarillo's pupils contracted and a short gasp escaped from her open mouth. She turned to her left and ran as fast as she could, not even fully aware of what she was doing. Havana traced the girl with her eyes.

"What are you doing!" She asked, shocked.

"Going to save them!" Amber exclaimed, fear within her voice.

"Are you stupid? That place is a kill zone! It can collapse at any moment, you can't just run in there!"

Amarillo stopped in her tracks, feet sliding on the highway road. "It's better than standing here doing nothing."

With that she took off again, toward the exit ramp. Havana sighed as she rested her gaze on the snow at her feet.

"She's right. . ." Havana muttered under her breath. She then set one foot forward, followed by another after Amarillo. Amber ran down the snow laden ramp, shuffling her foot out in front of her to keep upright. Snow crumbled at the girl's feet, flowing down the slope from the force. It became harder and harder to control her speed at this angle of decent. Seeing where the snowline from the road met with the ramp, Amarillo sprung for the densest spot. She left the shoddy footing of the snow for none at all, flying a good amount of feet off the exit. She swung her arms forward in a circular motion as she approached the snow below.

"Ar-mph!" She grunted as her lower body embedded itself into the thick white powder. Amber placed her arms on the surface of the snow and hoisted her waist out. A dull burning pain snapped in her left shoulder as it relaxed briefly from the strain. The girl let out a small whimper as she dropped her left side into the snow. She cringed with half her face in the snow and right arm pulling one of her legs out of the hole. Amber lifted her head and glared forward, now wasn't the time for pain. Propping her torso up her other leg managed to kick free from it's confines. Then she persisted to crawl on her stomach across the snow, spreading out her surface area. Snow caked onto her Bomber jacket as it slid in between the cold frozen water and her body. What looked to be an edge of a plaza appeared just a short distance ahead. Amarillo kept moving forward, elbow over elbow toward the granite shelf. As she came almost face to face with it she reached up and placed her right hand on the solid object. Amber pulled herself up slightly, carefully doing the same with her left arm. The girl pulled herself up from practically a dead hang then twisted her arms around and pushed off the ledge, bringing one knee to the flat ground. Coming to a stand she brushed off the snow on her jacket then looked up at the buildings over head. She was now a couple hundred feet from the half collapsed structure.

"God. . ." Amarillo barely spoke, ". . . Please let Brooklyn be ok." Above her was the destroyed building pinned in between it's base foundation and neighboring building, suspended in air. Pieces of metal and concrete continued to fall to the ground in large chunks and small. Amber narrowed her eyes as she shook off the hesitation of running into what was essentially a death trap. The girl strode forward, braving the thoughts of what might happen when she reaches the decimated floors, if she even gets that far. Amarillo reached to her right thigh and unfastened her pistol holsters strap from her handguns handle. She pulled out the black pistol and held it at her side, just in case. Amber jogged toward the entrance of the somewhat intact building with the upper half of the other right overhead. She came to a halt in the shadow of the beast, looking up in awe. The structure creaked and groaned as it rested in midair right over the girl's head. The strong impulse to run from under the fragile monster overwhelmed Amarillo's senses but she stood still fighting it back. Suddenly a large wooden desk crashed to the ground several yards from Amber. She shot a glance at the shattered piece of furniture before sprinting to her destination. More things began to fall all around her, smashing into the ground from their long fall. Whole chairs, computer monitors, desks, and lamps fell from the office rooms overhead. Amarillo continued to run for the shelter of the other office building, jumping over piles of rubble from what dropped before she arrived. Almost to safety she picked up her pace to escape the danger. Just feet in front of her a large table slammed into the concrete blowing up on impact. Amber jumped to the side to avoid running into the wreckage. As she passed a heavy silver handgun came down upon her, smashing in between her shoulders. Amarillo yelped as she continued into the broken doors of the lobby. Inside she slowed down and spun around, hitting her back against the farthest wall from the revolving doors.

"Uh-gah!" She uttered as she slid to the ground on the wall. The blunt pain ached as she clinched her hand on the back of her neck. She bit down on her teeth as she recovered from the hit. Amber then looked to her left at the stairs she needed to climb in order to get to the other two trapped on the seventh floor, or worse.

Amarillo kept at a hurried pace as she climbed the steps, now at the top of the seventh floor. On the floor everything was gutted with bits of concrete and glass everywhere. Wires hung from the ceiling with what was left of the Styrofoam tiling. The girl looked around with a sympathetic look on her face. Walking through the hall she came upon an opening in the wall leading out into the open air. She peered out carefully to see the ground below still being pelted by debris. Along the right side was the length of the top half of the building Boston and Brooklyn were on before it collapsed. A cold and hollow breeze seemed to pass right through her being in addition to the freezing air of late winter outside. A loud sound of steel girders jarring loose and clattering into one another sounded throughout the floor. Amber turned from the vantage point and stepped along the rest of hall. She squeezed the grip of her handgun as she prayed to find both of her friends alive, most importantly Brooklyn. As Amarillo looked to her left, studying the roof of the building that fell into the wall, a shuffling sound came from the right hall. She quickly whipped around at the sound, holding her pistol forward with one hand. To her surprise a familiar pair of eyes were on either side of the handguns tip.

"Brooklyn?" Amarillo questioned to the dirt covered figure in front of her.

"Amarillo?" A voice answered back with a question, it was New York's. Before the boy could realize, Amber dropped the gun to her side and wrapped her left arm around him. All Brooklyn could do was hug her back with both his arms, grateful to be alive and see her. They stood there in an embrace as something sifted through rubble.

"-_coughs-_ Gah, damn. I hope this isn't asbestos. Anyway, Help me find my revolver will ya'-?" Boston appeared down the hall. Amarillo looked up from Brooklyn's shoulder to see the man standing in the middle of the hallway.

"Which building did you come from?" The man asked.

"I came from the highway." Amber explained as she let go of New York.

"Wait." Boston leaned to his left leg, "So the highway crashed into this building too?"

"No."

"O-ok. . . ?" The man nodded, still not understanding what happened.

"I think we should just get out of here, like now." Brooklyn commented, looking at the wreckage out of the window.

"I'd love to do that kid, but I need to find my revol- Or we could just leave…" Boston sighed as he watched the two take off down the hallway.

The group of three stepped out of the building, just under the entrances awning.

"I don't like the looks of this…" Brooklyn cringed as he examined the field of rubble still falling from the building above. Suddenly Amarillo grabbed onto his hand and ran forward, almost dragging him after her.

"Hey. Hey!" Boston shouted at the two as he raised a hand in the air, pursuing them. The three darted across the field of falling doom.

"Whoa! Shit! Guys!" The man placed a hand on his head as he dashed forward, large objects hitting near his feet. A large water dispenser crashed right in front of him. The water spilled everywhere as Boston jumped over it with a certain lack of grace.

"Wow!- Hey, my gun." He remarked, bending down to scoop up his pistol. Booming screams echoed from the ruined building above, the sound of twisting metal. Half of the glass on the standing structure sheered off before cascading to the ground.

"We need to run faster! It's going to fall!" Amber shouted back as she increased her stride. The gigantic half fell down several yards before catching on more of the supporting wall. Brooklyn stumbled a bit before regaining his balance as his feet pumped back and forth. Finally the two in front were almost out of the shadow of the falling mass of metal and concrete. It plummeted to the ground, the howling sound of wind weaving through the shattered windows and broken walls. Then the building made contact with the ground, a split second of silence before a deafening boom exploded forth. Brooklyn looked back to see Boston engulfed in a huge cloud of brown dirt and shrapnel.

"Boston!" The kid yelled. The menacing cloud crept forward after the two teens with a chilling quickness. Then the man in a fashion-forward white blazer bolted out of the smog.

"Whooa!" He exclaimed, screaming after his compatriots. Amarillo hastily leapt off of the plazas ledge into the snow covered street, followed by a falling Brooklyn, who was followed by the bounding Boston, whom was also followed by the massive plume of soot.

"Ooh, what's that? I can't see with all this smoke." Boston spoke in the darkness, feeling something with the bottom of his shoe.

"T-that's my-face." Brooklyn spoke, muffled by the snow having fallen in head first.

"Is it? My bad bud."

"You are probably the two luckiest people on the planet and your acting as if nothing happened?" Amarillo scoffed, invisible to the two, especial New York.

"Uh, well something obviously did happen. Seeing that we're all together chest-high in frozen happiness, surrounded by a cloud of even more happiness." Boston replied. "… Ok, I can feel the cold stare already- shutting up now." After Boston's most enlightening remark, Brooklyn managed to bring himself upright out of the snow.

He blinked a couple of times as he tried to see through the dirt in the air. "… There's nothing happy up here…" The boy commented, his voice low with disappointment.

Brooklyn sat behind Amarillo in the back seat, next to Boston. Amarillo sat low in her seat rather displeased at the two in the back.

"What?" The boy questioned, breaking the long held silence.

Amber rolled her eyes, "Let's, just not start."

"Start what? What did we do?"

"Oh, I don't know - Maybe it's the fact that you never thanked me after I risked my life to rescue you, even when I was so sure you were dead. Or maybe-"

"Hey, there wasn't anytime to thank you, Amber! We were running from a giant ass building!" Brooklyn retorted, leaning forward in his seat. He then noticed the girl keep quite, arms folded across her chest. The boy shook his head before thinking over their transaction of words.

"You know what I like." Boston interjected, looking at the other three "I like that we could have **not** split up and do all that work and **still** would be driving on this road."

"Yeah?" Havana looked back, a sarcastic smirk on her face, "Get used to it. If you want to remain in the group, you're gonna' have to pull a lot of weight."

The man leaned against the back rest, putting his left leg over his right has he lifted both arms, "Easy senorita, since when did we all get so sour with each other?"

With that said, Havana simply chuckled to herself lightly before promptly placing her palm on her face. The edgy quietness soon returned to the SUV, causing some unrest inside Brooklyn's chest. It felt as if a thick rope had tightened itself into a knot and was constricting together where his heart should be.

_It's not a normal thing to run from under the looming shadow of something that outweighs you by a long row of zeros only to regret a few words. Seems silly in the whole spectrum of things, but in a way, that feeling felt normal. Maybe it was something I was used to, harboring a long list of personal regrets. But suddenly, everything became real. I realized that we were all real people in this world, in a very real apocalypse, just trying to get by._


End file.
